The Gift of the Magi: A SPN Tale for the Holidays
by Speary
Summary: As it is the beginning of the holiday season, we should have a holiday fic. It begins with Castiel choosing to drag Dean away from the bunker on a journey to retrieve objects. He claims that the objects are needed for the restoration of his grace. It is clear that Dean is being changed by the Mark. Something must be done to stop it. Will the sacrifices be worth it? S10!fic Destiel
1. Grace, Gold, Gone

**AN: So I posted this on my tumblr, and I think that there is something here. It is just a short fic to get me over the fact that my other fic isn't having enough Dean and Cas interaction at the moment. This is also an attempt to write an SU since my last fic was an AU. This is a season 10 fic, so maybe spoilery. Demon!Dean. Post Ask Jeeves timeline.**

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><p>There were things that they could not say to each other. That had been the case for a long time, since the beginning maybe. It was not always so important, though, the talking. They understood each other well enough. Castiel wondered if that was still the case now though. He understood, or so he told himself. Did Dean understand? Was he still capable of that much?<p>

He looked to him in the darkness of the Impala as it rumbled down the long stretch of road. It was December and there was a coldness in the air that should not have affected him so much. _Perhaps it was the diminishing grace._ Instead of thinking about it though, he turned, instead to the window, pressed his head to the glass, and stared out at the streaks of desert soaring past in the night. The irony of the cold desert was not lost on him.

They had not slept in days. He was tired. He remembered when that wasn't an issue. He craved those days now. Dean was humming a tune at his side. It was not one of his classic rock songs, not that he had been much for music lately. They mostly just drove in silence. They had stopped though, a few hours ago when there was still a little light, at a truckstop. They needed to fill the tank. The gas station was pumping out music through its outdoor speakers, Christmas music. It was loud and annoying. Castiel had wrinkled up on himself with the first blast of it as he got out of the vehicle.

Dean looked at him as he pumped the gas. "Funny."

"What?" Castiel stared up at him from the side of the car, leaning back on it just a little.

"I thought that angels would be pre-programmed to love this stuff." Dean smirked up at the speaker then back at Castiel.

"No, we are not. It is grating." Castiel tried not to let it get to him, the way that Dean seemed to be enjoying this moment. It wasn't that he did not want Dean to find moments of joy, it was that he was not himself. His joy was at Castiel's discomfort. This was not the way that Dean would have been before the Mark. They had cured him once, sort of. _Maybe this time will stick._ The light from the too bright gas station blazed down onto them both, throwing shadows down Dean's face in a way that made him seem much more demon than human.

The humming continued. The first song was the same as the one that was playing at the gas station. The second song was "Here Come's Santa Claus." Or at least that is what Castiel thought that it was. Like Dean's singing, the humming too was a little off. The third song was different. It was not one of the whimsical holiday tunes about reindeer or jolly fat men. It was a song of a more somber sort. He believed that it was called, "We Three Kings." It was the story of the Magi and their quest to bring gifts to the new born son of God. He couldn't help but smile as Dean hummed it out.

He had gathered some of what he needed at each stop. He knew that Dean did not understand the mission. He did not understand because Castiel chose to only tell him lies. He had made him believe that there was a solution to his grace slipping away. That had been enough to convince Dean, demon or not, to go on this lengthy mission with Castiel. At the time, there was apparently enough humanity left in Dean to make him want to go on this journey. Now it was just habit. Dean would keep going as long as Castiel did not rock the boat too much. He couldn't talk about the changes he saw each time he looked at Dean. He couldn't let him know that he saw more in those fleeting glances and sometimes prolonged stares.

The song hummed out around him, rising in volume. It made him drowsy. He rested his head against the glass again and let his mind slip a little. The story of the Magi played out in his head along with the song. Their tale was not unlike his own present life. In fact, the similarities were troubling in this moment. He wondered if Dean had really thought about the items that he had been collecting before he had started humming the new song. He worried that perhaps Dean was more aware than he was giving him credit for.

He hadn't been aware that day at the bunker. So much had happened in the time that he had been separated from them. They had not followed his advice. He had thought that Sam would be more sensible, but with each shred of communication between them, he knew that Sam was failing. He was failing too, but in a different way. Hannah had been his companion, and things between them had escalated rapidly. He had been plotting ways to leave her, not because he did not want her company, but because he could not drag her into his mess. He knew that she would be harder to manage if they continued in this way. She would want to save him, and that would not be possible without unacceptable sacrifices.

So, he began making his way back to the bunker with her in the seat beside him. He made the journey, because he could kill two birds with one stone. He could solve the problem that was Hannah's need to save him, and he could save Dean, really save him. He had come to know some things about what saving Dean really meant. He and Sam, and especially Crowley, had gone about it wrong. So wrong in fact that living was more painful than the dying for Dean. Castiel wanted to solve for that too.

When he had walked into the bunker and saw the brothers at the foot of the stairs, he knew at a glance, just how bad their situation had become. His eyes fell on Dean and the once glowing white light of his soul was foggy with a swirling madness of black. It had not yet taken over entirely, but it would, again. Sam had taken Hannah on the "grand tour" in a thinly veiled attempt at giving Castiel time to more fully assess Dean's state. Sam had told him much in their last phone conversation, but it did not prepare him for this. He had stepped up to Dean in a manner that was reminiscent of their old ways. Personal space was not a consideration.

"Hello, Dean," he had said when they were alone in the room.

"Hello, Cas." Dean shifted about uncomfortably in front of him. The soul fighting for purchase at the forefront of Dean's existence. The fog swirled away into the background the closer Castiel stood. He had moved nearer. This was further proof to him later, that the plan would work. He was surprised that the demon could tolerate him even now in the car. Back then though, in the bunker, that part of Dean had been weaker, and Castiel had been stronger.

"Are you okay?" He had asked.

"Yes. You?" Dean had tilted his head in consideration of Castiel's face. "You look stronger than the last time that I saw you."

"I'm well enough." He lied, but it did not matter. He wasn't well enough at all. He had added, "I am here to ask you for a favor?"

"A favor?" Dean shifted back a little. A tiny distance felt large to Castiel in that moment. He thought that maybe Dean would refuse him. It was important that he accepted Castiel's plan.

"Yes, I wouldn't normally want to trouble you. You have much to contend with on your own, but I can't think of anyone else that I can trust to help me." Dean stepped back toward Castiel as he spoke. Apparently, his soul was still mostly in charge and it wanted to be helpful.

"Name it."

"My grace is slipping away. Soon, I will lose it entirely." Castiel had taken a seat at the long table finally feeling the weight of all of the recent events pressing in on him.

Dean sat beside him, "So, you'll be human?" There was a slight uptick to Dean's question that Castiel wondered at, but not for long.

"Not for long."

"What do you mean?" He looked concerned. The light coming from him throbbing at the surface for Castiel to see.

"When it leaves, I will die. It isn't like before." He let out a long, pointless breath and dipped his head down to his chest a little. Dean reached over, a comforting hand to his shoulder.

"Tell me what to do. We'll fix this."

"I need to retrieve some items. They are _special_ to say the least. They can be used to perhaps undo what has been done to me." He looked up into Dean's eyes and added, "I can't ask Hannah. She is too desperate to fix this, and she will make mistakes."

"Let me get my bag, and we can go. Should Sam go too?" Castiel had considered bringing Sam along, but had decided against it. Sam might not go along with the plan if he came to fully understand it.

"No, Sam can take care of the little things that will crop up in your absence. Not to mention, he still needs to heal up."

"Fair enough. And you don't plan to bring Hannah with us?" Castiel heard the tone shift as Dean used Hannah's name. He was likely not fond of her after the interaction that he had with her at the old angel headquarters.

"Like I said before, she should not aid me in this. It will be too much for her. I hope that I can trust you in this." He knew that the phrasing would set the deal in motion. Dean craved trust and he had the need to take care of the broken things that came into his certainly qualified as broken. Dean was broken too so maybe it was a kinship of the broken that he needed to feel.

So they left that night. Dean had needed sleep back then, so they had stopped several hours later at a run-down, cheap motel. Castiel stayed up and stared out the filthy motel window at the stars. He had not been as tired then. Dean slept, and he did his best not to watch him too much. He had not realized it, but eventually he too fell asleep, head pressed down on the table.

Dean woke him up with a cup of coffee and food that he had picked up without Castiel noticing. "I don't need the food." Castiel had said, but he took it anyway. They made their way to the car. He had done a fair amount of explaining during that first night. The items were old, not Castiel old, but old enough. He worried that the driving would take too long. He worried that somehow he would be wrong about the solution. _That doesn't matter._ He had thought. _First things first._

First there had been the gold coin. It was old, said to have been pressed specially by members of the Qin dynasty. He had found it with the help of Sam's careful research. He had wanted to retrieve it without drawing much attention. It had been held in a private collection in a home that had once been a plantation. So, Castiel took the devil down to Georgia, so to speak. Dean had wanted to take care of the job himself. He thought that Castiel was weak. Truth be told, he had started feeling weak the moment that he got into the car with Dean. The night at the motel only added to the feeling. He was certainly weaker by the time that the Impala came to a stop just after midnight outside of the high wall surrounding the plantation house

Castiel had only closed his eyes for a second. It was enough though. He had fallen asleep. That was all that Dean had needed. He did not want to bring Castiel into a place that could be dangerous. He was still human enough for that feeling to trump all. Although, it was also possible that he really just wanted to have no one holding him back. The desire to unleash some violence was likely nibbling away at him. Castiel had worried that this might become a problem, but he had no solution beyond the broad reaching plan.

When Dean had returned to the vehicle, he had been covered in blood. It was a terrifying sight, or rather, it would have been if Castiel had not seen worse, done worse. "What have you done, Dean?" He had asked quietly.

In response, Dean held out the coin, also covered in blood. Castiel took it and felt the sticky blood in his palm. Dean came around the car, stopping at the trunk to deposit weapons. Then he got into the driver's seat, mess, gore, and all. He turned to Castiel and then back to the front. He turned on the car and they headed out.

Many hours had passed before Castiel had spoken. He did not want to deal with the horror show that was next to him. The blood was all over the normally pristine seats of Dean's baby. The smell, metallic and earthy had been filling his body with so much concern. Finally, though, the silence had to be broken. "We are going to head to Oklahoma, the pan handle."

"Hmm." Dean grunted out, then turned off the road taking the car in a more westerly direction. They had been traveling more toward the north.

"We will need to stop at a motel so that you can clean up. You are a mess." He felt the worry growing with each passing moment of silence from Dean. Then over the horizon, there was a lonely motel. It could have been condemned. It looked like the least inviting place in existence. The vacancy light was on though. Dean pulled in and waited in the car for Castiel to take care of the arrangements.

Once they were in the room, Dean silently cleaned himself up in the shower. Castiel waited by the door staring out through the window again at the night. He got up and tossed himself down on the far edge of the bed. He was very tired now. He closed his eyes. The bathroom door opened and Dean came out with fog trailing behind him. He was wrapped in a towel and a fine sheet of water droplets. Castiel followed his movements to the duffle bag on the squat 1970's era dresser. He had pulled out clothes and then went back into the bathroom without acknowledging Castiel in the slightest.

Castiel did not feel tired now, but he continued to lay on the bed, staring up at the popcorn ceiling. He was directing his thoughts down safer paths. Dean came out of the bathroom again, but this time he was dressed. He held out his hands in front of him and gave them a bit of scrutiny before dropping onto the bed next to Castiel. There was another bed, unused, just two feet away, but Dean did not go to it. Neither of them was fully committed to this bed. Their legs hung off the edge as though they had both been sitting just moments before.

Dean rolled onto his side and looked at Castiel. He could feel Dean's stare. He was afraid of what he would see if he turned to him. Would he see the darkness taking over? He sucked in a breath, unnecessarily and rolled onto his side to look back. There it was, the white glow, pressing forward. The black fog was nowhere to be seen. "Are you okay?" He asked Dean in a whisper. He knew that the answer was really no, just as he knew that Dean would not give utterance to a truth.

Dean didn't speak. He reached out a hand to Castiel's face and touched it. It was a nervous motion, as if he thought that he would be rejected. When he wasn't rejected, he moved closer, pressing his hand back into Castiel's hair. They stayed like this for a time. Neither daring to move or really breathe. Castiel moved closer next. He settled his arm on Dean's side in a type of distant hug. "Talk to me, Dean."

"M'kay." It was something at least.

"Okay, then." Castiel stretched out his other arm and angled it under Dean's head. He pulled him to him. He took a few shallow breaths and then said, "Rest now. Just rest. I'll be right here." He felt Dean nod into his chest, and, not long after, the tiny sleep breaths puffing out on his body let him know that Dean was asleep.

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><p><strong>Review, Fav., Follow, Rec. This is likely going to be a couple of chapters if there is enough interest. I will be posting it on ao3 too and maybe in my tumblr too (It's where I tested it out first). You can find my tumblr link in my profile. All the best to you.<strong>


	2. What Wise Men Want

He hummed out the whole song louder the second time through. The car was loud, but Dean was louder. Many states had slipped by since Georgia. They were all starting to look the same until the desert landscapes took over. Dean started the song again, _Obsessive. _Castiel could not sleep well with it swirling around in his head. The words were playing out in his mind as Dean hummed out the tune. He thought about Oklahoma and the second item that they had collected. It wasn't from the list, but it would get them closer to the end.

He looked out of the window and imagined the flat lands that greeted them when they had finally reached Oklahoma. There was a magus named Melchior that was still alive. He had carried one of the original three gifts to the son of God. He alone knew where Castiel could obtain resin from the original tree.

Melchior had been in Oklahoma for nearly a century. According to Sam, Melchior was a farmer. He had hoped that the tree would be easily spotted on Melchior's property, but that luck was not theirs. Further research had shown that the climate wasn't right in that region for growing the Boswellia sacra or the Frankincense tree. Castiel had also worried that Dean would fall into another bloody slaughter once they had approached the farm. He had seemed calm today, but he had seemed calm the other day too. It had taken so much time to clean out the blood. So much blood. Castiel had seen to it.

He thought back onto that night. The bed had not been comfortable and the night did not give him much sleep. He had managed though. When morning came he had extricated himself from Dean's tangle of limbs without waking him up. He had been struck again by the glow that pressed out at Dean's surfaces. He was beautiful like this, his soul warm and bright. _I'll save you._

He had gone into the bathroom to wet some of the towels to take out to the car. He did not have many dry towels left to work with. He found two small towels and wondered if they would be enough. He had to try though. So he took the towels out to the car and surveyed the damage. _So bad, so bad._

He began rubbing the seat with his wet towels, hoping that it would clear it up. In the end it was better, but not perfect. He decided that they would need to get hydrogen peroxide and more towels. He would also need time, and that was not something that was available in abundance. He had gotten quite absorbed in his task though, despite the futility of it. He did not hear Dean until he was practically by his side.

"Messy," Dean muttered.

"Yes." Castiel looked up at him, wondering if there would be more than one word sentences flowing from Dean today. "How are you feeling?"

"Confused. Disoriented." Dean stooped down and took the towel from Castiel's hand, fingers brushing each other just slightly. Castiel stared in the direction of Dean's hands, making no eye contact for the moment.

"Do you want to tell me what happened at the plantation?" Castiel got up and gave Dean a little room to work with.

Dean moved into the car a bit and started cleaning in the same futile manner that Castiel had been the moment before. "I don't remember most of it. I went in and there was fighting and then it was like I blacked out." He looked back at Castiel then, worry etched out around his eyes.

"When did you feel like you were back?" He leaned against the car and continued to look down at Dean crouched in the space between the door and the driver's seat. He wanted to provide comfort and healing. He felt powerless.

"When I got back to the car it started to get better. I felt like I was looking through a fog. I did not feel like I was in control. I wanted to do something, but I am not sure that it was really me that wanted to do something. You know what I mean?"

"What did you want to do?"

"When I was in the car, I wanted to find something to hurt. I wanted to run something over, or find a seedy dive bar to pop in on. Those places are always good for a little violence. I don't really know what I wanted specifically, but it was going to be bloody." Dean pulled his hand out of the car and looked at it again with the same level of scrutiny that he had employed the night before.

"Do you remember much from the motel?" Castiel asked because he wondered if Dean had been conscious of the sleeping arrangements or if that was just something that was part of the fog.

"Yes. I took a shower. There was a lot of blood. I think that I did something very bad, Cas." He wouldn't look at Castiel.

Castiel stooped down to his level and put a hand on his shoulder. "It'll be okay."

"I don't think that it will." He looked into Castiel's eyes when he said it then stood up, walked over to the nearby trashcan and threw in the towels. "Let's get back on the road though. We aren't solving anything here."

Melchior sat out on a porch swing staring out at the "front yard" that was really just crushed gravel that had been allowed to cover the whole of the area out front. There was quite a view beyond the yard though, and Castiel had enjoyed taking it in as they had drawn closer. There were trees in abundance. Row on row of them stretching out forever. They were mostly leafless, given the season, but the grasses beneath the rows made up for that in their vibrant displays of green.

"I will talk with him. You stay in the car." Castiel did not want to make Dean feel guilty, but they did not need another bloodbath. Also, killing a centuries' old magus seemed like it could be problematic.

Dean acquiesced and Castiel got out of the Impala and approached the porch alone. Melchior did not rise to greet him. He merely watched as Castiel walked up to the steps with purpose. "That will be close enough, angel." His voice drawled out in a rich accent that sounded like it came from Russia. His long grey beard dipped down past his throat, laying languidly on his chest. His eyes were wide and almost demon dark. His face showed age and a kind of wisdom, yet not as much as should be apparent given all that he had likely seen.

Castiel stopped and waited for Melchior to speak again. When he didn't Castiel said, "I am Castiel, angel of the Lord."

"I know who you are, and why you have come." Castiel's face was a mask. Inside, though, he had been a tormented sea of emotions. He did not think that his mission should be known. Better to just do what was right and be done.

"What do you think that you know?"

"Everything. I even know that you will not get what you want." Melchior lowered his head further but did not break eye contact. His hands came together, and he slowly folded his fingers together.

"What is it that you think that I want?"

"With you, that is a big question. Any other angel could ask that question and the answer would be simple, to serve God, to care for humanity, to watch over the minuscule facets of creation, yadda, yadda, yadda." Melchior stood then and walked to the post at the edge of his porch. He leaned against it and let his gaze glide out toward the Impala and Dean sitting in the driver's seat. Castiel followed his gaze. "You want a great many things."

"I want just one thing." Castiel's tone seemed to be shifting to one of mild irritation. _How dare this man think that he knows me, my wants._

"No, you want many things, as I said before. That is what makes you so interesting, an angel that wants for himself." He kept looking out at the Impala. "And not for himself too, I think." He turned his gaze back to Castiel. "I have never met an angel that wanted to die before. Why do you want to die, Castiel?"

"I do not want that."

"Oh, but you do. You want it desperately. I see it in you. The way that your grace is spinning about. It is in a bit of turmoil in there. Can't you feel it?" His lip curled up in a half smile.

"You are mistaken. My grace is not my own. It is also depleting against my will. What it is doing in this vessel is not a reflection on my desires, my wants." Castiel spoke with confidence, hoping to put an end to the direction that their conversation was taking.

"I will allow you to think that that is true. I believe that it will make things easier for you. Now tell me what it is that you wish to obtain from me."

_Finally._ "I need to obtain resin from the original Boswellia sacra."

"It is not the original, but it is as close as one can get. You will not find it here."

"Where then?"

Melchior turned then and walked back into his house. "One moment." When he returned he carried in his hands a small cedar chest. "You will need this for the ritual." Castiel reached out for the box, Melchior did not hand it over. "I will meet the demon first."

"He is not a demon. He is Dean." He did not know why he felt the need to fight him on this, but he did it just the same.

"Your feelings on this subject are not as strong as your tone, or as strong as your other feelings. He is a demon, otherwise this conversation would not be necessary. Now, I will approach the car to meet him. You may come with me, or you may stay behind, your choice."

Castiel followed Melchior toward the car. Dean had been watching them the whole time. His look seemed to intensify as they drew closer, his hands gripped the steering column. Castiel worried that this would be a mistake. "It is not safe to approach him." He whispered out.

"And yet you claim that he is not a demon. Interesting. An angel that wishes to die and also tells lies. You are fascinating indeed."

"Not so interesting. I have just spent too much time with humans." Castiel moved past Melchior then and reached Dean's side of the car first. He opened the car door and said to Dean, "Melchior wishes to meet you."

Dean did not move at first. His eyes darted to the box in Melchior's hand and then to Castiel. His hands tightened on the steering wheel. Castiel placed a hand on his shoulder. Castiel could see the shift in Dean. The dark fog was still there, but his soul was clamboring about too. Dean spoke then, "Okay." That one word reminded Castiel of the trauma of the other night. He took a small step back, but did not relinquish his hold.

"Hello, demon." Melchior's voice was low and rough. Castiel turned to him with a scowl.

"Dean. You will call him Dean." There was menace in Castiel's tone.

Melchior did not turn to him right away. Instead he looked at Dean steadily as he emerged from the car. "Perhaps there is still some of that man still in there. Very well then, I will use your human name, Dean."

Dean spoke in a low grumble, "Did you give Cas what he wanted?"

"Not yet. I wanted to know that it was going to a good cause first. I am not so convinced." Melchior continued to stare steadily at Dean.

Castiel looked back at Dean and realized that there was more turmoil going on beneath the surface, there was light and dark storming about. His face seemed to convey some of the same feelings. Then he spoke, "There isn't a greater cause. Cas has done much for humanity. If you can help him, you should."

_Yeah, I have really done so much. So much killing, so much harm. _Castiel's eyes dropped from Dean a little.

Then Melchior spoke again, "How will Castiel be helped?"

"You'll give him something that he needs to stop the depletion of his grace." Dean looked confused, as if he were explaining a basic concept to someone that should have been smart enough to get it without the explanation.

_No. Don't explain._ "You have met him. Now, will you tell me where the tree is?"

Melchior turned to Castiel with a slight uptick to his lips. "I suppose that I will." He reached out with the box and handed it to Castiel. "When I planted the tree in Arizona, I did not know for sure if it would take. The climate there, though, seemed to be good enough. The tree thrived, even. It is watched over. If you are meant to have this token, then you will be allowed to take from the tree. If not, well, you will get your other wish." Melchior looked steadily at Castiel acknowledging the many wants that Castiel had not acknowledged earlier.

"I understand. Where will we find the tree?" Castiel pulled the box close to him.

"I have written it down. It is in the box." He stepped up to Castiel then and rested a hand on his shoulder. "You will not get what you want."

Dean stepped up then, and Castiel noticed the shift in his being. He was darkness as he swiftly reached out to Melchior. He shoved Castiel aside with force. He found himself on the ground, separated from Melchior's hold. Dean did not speak. Castiel scrambled up from the ground to intervene. Melchior's look was amused. "Dean. No." Castiel grabbed his arm.

"So, this is not a demon? This is worth saving?" Melchior let out a short mirthless laugh. "I will think of you for some time to come, angel. You have chosen a most unusual mission." He turned his back on them then and walked casually back to the house. Dean did not move at first. Castiel watched the swirling sea of light and dark. He pressed another hand to him and felt a subtle change.

"Come on, Dean. Time to go." Dean moved back to the car then, but not to the driver's side. He got into the passenger's side instead. Castiel slipped in behind the wheel without comment and they left the magus' home behind in their dust.

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><p><strong>Review, Fav., Follow, Rec.<strong>

** So, I am a little worried that this fic is stealing my attention a bit. This one won't be too long though. Maybe just 10-15k. Hope you all are enjoying it. Thanks Mummabro, for the thoughts both here and on my tumblr. Thanks Igniting for the kind words and encouragement. Thanks also watcherseven for the review too. All the best to you all.**


	3. There is Blood

The land whipped by in a blur. They were heading west again. They had left Melchior's home in the early evening. Eventually, night descended upon them and Castiel turned to Dean. He had not spoken during the drive. The darkness was swirling about in his form. There was a town ahead. Castiel tried to maintain consciousness, but it was becoming more difficult. The driving had kept him awake. He just wanted to pull over for a few minutes, to rest.

There was a bar at the edge of the town. He pulled into the back of the parking lot that was pretty full for a weeknight. "I need to rest. We will stay here for an hour." Castiel explained while he leaned his head back, eyes closed.

Dean did not reply. He just sat there. Castiel could feel the energy emanating from him. He felt it in a new way now. It felt as though Dean's body was pulling at him despite the distance between them. He was losing consciousness fast. The world around him became a vacuum. He dreamed and it was a wash of colors and light that whipped his mind into a fury.

There was blood. Dean's face blanketed in the crimson madness. His eyes dark then demon black. A smile spreading across his face slowly told Castiel that Dean, his Dean was gone. He spoke to him in thoughts. _Come back, Dean. Push it back._ The demon drew closer. His face looming over him. There was a long string of blood, viscous and hovering down from Dean's chin. The end of it an overlong droplet nearly too big to keep from falling free.

He gripped Castiel's face in his hands. The touch was not tender. It was scary. _Be there, Dean. Be there._ He looked up long and deep into the demon's eyes, trying to see past it to Dean. _There is green in there somewhere if I just look hard enough._ He kept wanting to pull it forward. He kept wanting to pull the light to the surface. He kept wanting and wanting, like Melchior had said. He did want. He wanted more than he dared to admit even in dreams.

The blood dripped from the demon's chin. Castiel blinked and saw a sliver of light break free. The eyes looking down at him flickered and the darkness receded. He was Dean. He was Dean holding his face. He was Dean, his Dean. The moment felt long, breathing each other's air. They stood close. The space between them lessening on a sway. They were not touching beyond Dean's hands on him.

They had not moved. The air around them was a wind now. It was spinning them. It was unnatural. They were lifted into it, part of the storm. Then the world was nothing but them and air and sky. There were wings, his wings. He remembered how they had felt. They were spread out wide now, black on the empty air around them. He squeezed them close around them. The blood on Dean's face beginning to blow away on the wind. His face still serious beneath the blood that was diminishing.

The wind was buffeting at his back and sides. His wings felt the force most profoundly. Inside this cocoon, though there was safety, safety that he was providing. He was his shield, his calm, his protector. If only he would let him be this. If only Dean could let him be this. His lips parted as if to speak. He did not know what to say though.

Dean took this as an invitation. He leaned in, close, not quite touching though, lips just a breath from contact. This was Castiel's mind, his dream, and even here he could not do more than want. So he wanted and tormented himself with denial, for he did not wish for reward. He had earned none of that. There could be only redemption through selflessness. He could be that.

The wind died. Their bodies sank down, and Castiel could feel the waking world pulling him back. His eyes flickered open to the night and the vast parking lot that he had chosen for his rest. He looked over to the seat next to him. Dean was there, and there was blood.

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><p>They drove on into the night. Castiel had looked back, wondering what carnage had been left in their wake. It was getting harder to justify inaction where Dean's acts were concerned. People likely died. Maybe innocent people. He grew worried about the thought, for pursuing it could only mean one thing, killing the demon, killing Dean. <em>No, we will fix this another way.<em>

He kept his eyes on the road, an unwitting accomplice to murder. When he finally spoke, it was a subdued whisper and the same question that he always asked now. "Are you okay?"

Dean did not reply. He stared ahead out into the dark as if there was something there to really see. A low noise came from his throat, a guttural moan, pained and full of anguish. Castiel reached out to him, like he always did, like he always would if he could. He rested his hand on his shoulder, squeezed life into him. He pulled off to the side of the long, empty road. The noise turned to sobs and shaking. Dean curled down onto himself. He was speaking. A tiny whimper of a sound was issuing from him. Castiel had to lean closer to hear him. "Kill me, Cas. You have to kill me."

He felt overwhelmed. He pulled Dean closer to him, wrapping him in his arms. "Shh, shh. It will be okay, Dean. It will be okay." He didn't believe that it would be okay. He hoped. He wanted, but he didn't believe. _How could it be okay?_ He had to say it though. It was the only comfort that he had to offer.

Dean was breathing out in gasps and shuddering hitches. "No, Cas, you have to help me die. I killed them. I think that I killed them all. I would do it myself, but, if I do, you or Sam will just bring me back. I can't come back, Cas. It needs to end. I need it to stop."

Then Castiel pulled out a card he had not wanted to play. If Dean had been himself, he might have seen through it. He wasn't though. "I still need you, Dean. I can't kill you. Who else can help me save my grace?"

Dean's shaking sobs slowly came under his control. He was stilling. There was a long stretch of time where Dean just breathed, and Cas unconsciously copied his breathing rhythm. Then, as if they had not been sitting in silence for so long, Dean replied, "Okay, Cas." It was quiet and sad. Castiel could feel defeat in the tone, like the only reason that he was willing was because he thought that he could save Castiel, and that, to Dean, was more important than all of the death that might be unleashed by the demon inside of him.

It was more important than the death that he craved. It was more important than anything. _If you knew the truth. If you knew how much I need to save you. _He understood the feeling, the need to stop living for fear of how much dying would come from it.

* * *

><p>They reached another questionable motel and Castiel went into the office to obtain a room. All of the rooms were beginning to seem the same, the same strange odor, the same strange look arrested in time. They all felt confining and small. It should feel less like this now with only the two of them. Sam took up a fair amount of space, but the spaces felt much smaller now. It was as though they were bringing into these spaces far greater burdens than they had carried before. The burdens were filling the spaces and crushing them both all at once.<p>

Dean went directly into the bathroom and it was silent for some time. Finally, there was the sound of water running. Castiel let out a small sigh of relief. He tucked himself up into the bed, pulling the covers up to his chin. He was still wearing all of his layers of clothes. He still felt cold though.

He was sleeping when he felt the nudge of a body on the bed at his feet. He cracked his eyes open and peered out in the dark. Dean was curled up at the foot of the bed like an overly large cat. Castiel still felt cold, so he thought that Dean might feel cold too. He got up and pulled the ancient comforter off of the other bed. He draped it over Dean and ran a hand over his mess of golden brown hair. Dean shivered under the touch. "Cas?" His voice was small. His eyes were closed.

"Yes, Dean." Castiel sat down beside Dean.

"I need you to do me a favor when all of this is done." Dean opened his eyes then and looked up at him.

Castiel feared the request. He already knew what Dean would want. He could lie. That was a plan of some sorts, but not a good one. "What is it, Dean?"

Dean lifted his head a little and Cas moved closer. Dean laid his head back down on Castiel's leg. "You already know." Castiel fell to stroking the back of Dean's head. "I can't ask Sam to do it."

"Don't ask me now. Let's see if a better solution comes along." He tried to sound reassuring, comforting. He was not so good at that sometimes.

"I don't want a better solution, Cas. I want this solution. I want to know that I won't hurt anyone. I know that you get this, please." He was curling up on himself. Castiel could see, though, the white light throbbing beneath his skin. The delicate way that it pressed out in a wave all along Dean's form. He wondered if Dean could feel it in the same way that Castiel felt his grace whirling about in his own form.

"Do you feel your soul, Dean?" Castiel felt Dean move a bit under his hand. He turned so that he was facing up.

"Why are you asking?"

"I want to know, because I can see it, your soul." Castiel moved his hand to Dean's chest and rested it there while Dean stared up at him.

"I don't ever feel my soul." Dean just kept staring up, eyes blinking a little.

"That is too bad. I think that it would be easier if you could feel it."

* * *

><p><strong>Review, Fav., Follow, Rec.<strong>

**Thank you for the review for this little distraction. I fear that I am going a little sappy with it. I need to find my less sappy footing again. However, I am enjoying the direction of it, and hopefully you are too. Thanks, Valerie-Lynn for liking it so far, and Mummabro for enjoying the threads of things that I toss in there. Thanks YoungHopeful for the encouraging enthusiasm. Lastly, thanks watcherseven for being the first to offer up encouragement on this one. **


	4. Touching the Stars Will Bring You Home

They were in the car again, the western sky calling out to them, the sun at their backs. Dean was in the driver's seat again. He seemed to be a little better. Castiel kept throwing little glances at him, and after the night of maybe killing at the bar, they seemed justified. He tried not to be obvious about it, but he knew that Dean could sense his glances. He seemed to squirm about a little each time that Castiel turned to him, no matter how slight the movement was.

"What's on your mind, Cas?" Dean grumbled out.

"I was just thinking about the situation." Castiel weighed his words. He worried that he would mess up.

"Umhmm." Dean was not looking at him. He stared straight ahead at the road, long and blanketed in wavy heat lines under the sun. After a beat, he turned and Castiel could see the white glow at the forefront of his being. He smiled at Dean, comforted for the moment that it was more him than not.

"I was just thinking that maybe we can keep you more in focus, more in charge, that there might be a way to help." Castiel felt nervous about his words. They could very easily set Dean off, which could shift who he was speaking with entirely.

"What do you propose?" Dean's question was calm, but his hands gripped the steering wheel a little more.

"Nothing too big. In fact, I think that it is a rather small thing."

"Spit it out, Cas."

"Talking, and such." He saw the shift in Dean as he seemed to be adjusting in the seat, trying to get more comfortable.

He laughed then, a short snort of a laugh. "When did you become Sammy? Next thing you know, we'll be taking long walks on the beach and opening a bed and breakfast on the coast." He laughed again at his little joke.

"You take long walks on beaches with Sammy?" Castiel tilted his head with the question, trying to remember a time when the brothers would have had time for this. _Maybe during their recent vacation._

He laughed at Castiel again and said, "You are so literal. I was joking."

"Oh." There was a long pause in the conversation. They sat there staring ahead, then Castiel added, "I like beaches."

"Everyone likes beaches." Dean muttered.

"They are vast and have so much life around them. They feel like potential. The waves are soothing too, like the world is rocking you to sleep. I think that I rather like beaches a lot." Castiel looked over to Dean.

"I like them too." He did not look at Castiel when he said it, but the mirth from before was missing. He was somber now.

"We should go to a beach. I would like to take a long walk on one." He continued to watch Dean as he spoke.

"Okay, Cas. Sure, whatever you say." He looked over to Castiel then. He seemed to be thinking more than he was saying. "So, you wanted to talk, huh? What should we talk about besides our mutual love of beaches?"

"Well, maybe you can tell me what you remember from your time with Crowley. Maybe there is something there that we can use to keep you from getting pulled out of yourself."

"Pulled out of myself?" Dean seemed to question the very ideal of the statement.

"Yes, it seems like that is what is happening. One minute you are here, really here with me, then you aren't. It is as though something is pushing you aside. If you can remember things from your time with Crowley, that might help." Castiel wanted to reach out to Dean, touch his shoulder, let him know that he was concerned, there. He didn't though. He worried that this kindness could set him off.

Dean told him about the time at the bar and the boardinghouse. He told him about the fighting and the way that things ended with Crowley. He told them about how his mind would slip. How there were times then that he could not remember too well. Those times seemed to be ever connected to violence. He said, "It was as though I wasn't seeing it from my own eyes, ya know."

"Okay. What about after you left Crowley? Did it change when you weren't with him anymore?" Castiel had wondered about this ever since he saw the way that Dean's soul and the darkness had played about in Dean's form. There was an ebb and flow to their existence that was mesmerizing to watch, if it weren't so upsetting. Castiel had noticed the way that his own presence seemed to draw out the soul. He theorized that it was the grace that was drawing it to the surface. He couldn't be completely sure though. _Perhaps, the demon, Crowley had pulled the darkness to the surface._

"After I left Crowley, I was not myself either. I went places. I tried to just be, but something inside of me was itching for a fight." He was calm while he spoke, but Castiel worried about what this trip down memory lane would unleash. He moved his hand up onto the back of the seat and let his fingers dip down to just brush along Dean's shoulder, subtle and hopefully not too noticeable. He had determined another thing too. Contact had an impact. The talking mattered, but what seemed to matter even more was the way that his physical presence pulled at the soul. It moved forward toward the touch.

"Did you fight?"

"Yes." He paused a second and an unexpected smile spread out over his face as he seemed to remember it. Castiel was worried at first, then Dean continued. "I was at a strip club, Angels." He laughed, "They spelled it with a Z instead of an s. You know, to make it classy." He looked over at Castiel then and smiled. "Guess I'm just doomed to always seek out the angels, huh?"

"So, you left Crowley and just spent time at strip clubs?" Castiel looked at Dean with some confusion.

"Sort of."

"And out of all of the dens of iniquity that you could find, you found one called Angels?"

Dean smiled again. "It's not such an uncommon name. People like to think that their strippers are more innocent than they really are, so you start with a name."

"Since when are angels innocent?" Castiel had to laugh at this notion a little.

"Well, present company excluded, quite often I reckon." Dean seemed to be in a good humor. Castiel felt like this was helping. He wanted to keep it going.

"I would like to think that I am not so special, and innocence is overrated. Besides, most of my brethren have found other means of corruption that are rather lacking in innocence." The long road stretching out ahead of them was rather desolate. New Mexico was fast becoming a blur. If they kept driving this way, they would end up in Arizona before nightfall. It was only a thirteen hour drive from Melchior's home, so it had always been doable in one day. Castiel's stop at the bar though, had thrown a wrench in the works. He had become lost in his reflections when Dean spoke again.

"You know, you are better than them right?" Dean spoke quietly then.

"What do you mean?" He was confused. He had forgotten for a moment what they were talking about.

"I mean, you aren't like them. You are special. Different." He stopped then and seemed to grow uncomfortable, shifting about in his seat again. "They don't seem to care like you do. That matters, Cas. It matters more than you seem to know."

Now it was Castiel's turn to be uncomfortable. "Tell that to the people that I have hurt." He didn't mean to be cold, but it was hard for him to take praise. This was praise. Undeserved praise and he did not feel that he could ever earn this.

"Do you mean that?" Dean sounded hurt, worried even.

"I do. It was thinking that I was special that got me into a place that ruined lives. I nearly ruined you, your brother, all of humanity. Not to mention, I slaughtered angels, my brethren, by numbers best not calculated. The multitudes of them laid out around me scream at me in dreams. I didn't have dreams before, but I do now. And they are there, each night to greet me." He took a deep breath and calmed down a bit, then added, "So, no Dean, I am not special, at least not in a good way, not like you."

Dean jerked the car to the side of the very empty desert road. Castiel was surprised. Dean shut off the car and stalked off out into the land that stretched out for infinite miles. There was sagebrush and prickly bushes sporadically scattered all around. Castiel realized that Dean was not coming back to the car. He grabbed the keys out of the ignition and stormed off after him.

He was fast, but Dean had a head start. Dean wasn't running though, just walking with a force of purpose. There was anger too. It was anger that Castiel could almost see trailing off of his back as he went. He didn't call out to him; he just quickened his pace. Dean knew that he was behind him. He could tell by the way that he moved. There was a lot that he could tell by the way that Dean moved.

Suddenly, Dean stopped and turned to him, a rush of fury and misery. He grabbed Castiel by the edges of his coat and nearly flung him away. "Stop following me." He turned back to his path and continued. Castiel followed him. Dean took several large steps then turned again, "Why the Hell won't you quit? Damn it, Cas. If you feel that way, why won't you just quit?"

"I don't understand."

"Yes, you do. You completely understand. You know exactly what I am saying, feeling, doing."

Castiel just stared at him, waiting. "Dean, I don't know what you mean."

"You think that you're not special because you hurt people. You make it sound like you are unforgivable." He was turning away now like he wanted to leave again, storm off into the desert, never come back, but he stayed. "I hurt people, Cas, and not just some dicks with wings that wanted to tear apart humanity. I hurt innocent people. I may not remember it all, but I did. There ain't no coming back from that. So if you and all of your actions make you unredeemable, then what does that make me, Cas? Huh? What does that make me."

He was breathing hard as he spoke, anger and need in tumult. His soul was bright though, bright and shiningly in control. Castiel reached out to him. Dean took a step back. Castiel moved faster and pulled him to him. He held him tight, despite the effort that Dean made at first, until there was no effort anymore. Castiel spoke out over his shoulder, never letting up on his hold. "It makes you human, and far better than I will ever be. Most days, I wish that I could be half as good as you are, Dean Winchester. Just half, and then I might be able to forgive myself a little."

He let go a little and looked at Dean, really looked at him. "What about the things that I have done? Those aren't good things, Cas. I am not good. You will save people if you kill me. Sam could help you get the rest of the items. You don't need me." He sounded desperate, and Castiel wanted to fix it. He wanted to make things better. He wanted so much.

"Now, that, Dean, is completely untrue. I do need you." He couldn't say more. He wouldn't say more. Castiel just needlessly breathed in and out. A moment passed, then Dean dipped his head. They could not be closer.

"You are wrong, Cas. You don't. You would be better off without this."

"No, Dean. I wouldn't." _How do I make you know this?_ "You are needed. You remind me to be a better…" He paused searching for the word. _Angel? Human? Creature? _He went with the last. It seemed closest to his current state. "Creature. Most days, I don't want to live. You have fought and lived and died. You have done more in your thirty some odd years than I have done in a millenium. I envy you, Dean." He paused and chuckled a little at Dean's look. "I know, an angel who envies, unnatural. I do though. So, Dean, I need you. I need you to keep on being here with me. Get me through this, because without you, I don't need to get through this. Do you understand?"

Dean's eyes closed a little. He seemed to be processing the words. His soul was glowing out, white and strong. They were still close. Castiel could feel Dean's heart a bass drum against his chest. The air was hot around them.

Dean's lips parted a little as if he were going to respond. Castiel licked his lips, an unconscious action. Instead of speaking though Dean kissed him. It was possible to misconstrue it, to think that it wasn't a kiss, but that it was instead an accidental movement that lead to this touch of lips. It was light and brief with the barest amount of actual contact. It was a millisecond of warmth in the desert that was too hot around them. The warmth was more than temperature. It was comfort. It was a type of love that says you are home and safe. This moment was also something somber between them. It was Dean conceding, understanding Castiel's words.

Dean stepped back a bare moment after contact. Awkward and still sullen he said, "I understand." He stalked back to the car. Castiel stood alone for a few moments in the desert convincing himself that Dean really did understand. For beneath his words before was a separate, desperate plea that Dean needed to grasp. Dean needed to see his worth, not just to an angel, but beyond that too. Castiel also tried to tell himself that the moment hadn't happened quite as it had, for that would be unfair. He did not feel that he deserved that much kindness.

* * *

><p>They drove into Arizona at dusk, and made the extra couple of hours drive into the interior of the state pass by with limited conversation. Castiel had texted Sam with their coordinates, asking for advice on the best way into the canyon. Melchior had apparently decided to hide the tree in the most popular national park in the United States. It was apparently pretty easy to hide a small tree in the midst of the Grand Canyon, since Castiel had not heard of anyone ever disturbing it.<p>

Sam's text had come back, saying more than Castiel chose to share. "Sam says that we will be hiking to the tree. Are you up for a long walk in a canyon?"

"Well, it isn't a beach, but sure." Dean cast a sidelong glance his way.

"I think that there will be a river beach for part of the walk." He smiled back. "Do you have some gear in the trunk? He thinks that it will take about a day and a half."

"Yeah, we just need to get food and water."

"I won't require that, but yes."

"Cas, I'm not sure if you have noticed, but you have been eating and drinking. Each time that I give you breakfast, you say, no thanks, but you take it and eat it anyway."

"I do?"

"Yes, you do. I wonder if it is because of the grace." Dean slowed up the car as they got to the space that would be their campsite for the night. They had paid their fees at the ranger gate. It was expensive, but not unreasonable.

"I guess that we will need to carry extra food then. I hadn't realized that I was doing that." Castiel got out of the car and they began gathering items from the trunk. They planned to get food from the small camp store when it opened in the morning. Castiel took the bag that Dean handed out to him and Dean grabbed one of his own. Together they hiked a few yards up from the parking space to the clearing that would accommodate their tent. "Do you have warmer sleeping bags than these?" Castiel looked at the thing that he was holding.

"Maybe. Actually, no. I think that we have some blankets though. I remember the last time that Sammy and I went camping it was frickin' cold. I said that I would get us some better bags, but then stuff came up."

Castiel looked at him and said, "It doesn't matter. I have been cold lately. It has been...odd." He set down the bag on the picnic table and helped Dean lay out the tent. they made short work of it. It was a simple tent and a little too small for them both. "Um, you shared this tent with Sam?" He looked down at the so-called 'two-man' tent.

"Yeah, it wasn't comfortable, mind you, but it worked out in a pinch. I figured it would be easier with you. You don't happen to be quite as tall as Sam." Dean busied himself with the gear and started making a fire in the nearby pit.

"Just don't kick me or snore too loudly. I apparently require a little sleep lately too." Castiel tried to make light of the situation that he found himself in. It seemed easier to do that than to discuss the very serious issue of his depleting grace. It would leave, he would die, and this world would keep going.

"Don't think that I don't get what you are doing." Dean looked at him across the dark campsite, the only light was the moonglow, pale on his face. "We will get the objects. You will get your grace back. I won't let you down."

"I never thought that you would." Castiel tossed the sleeping bags into the tent then made his way over to Dean. He had lit the kindling under the stacks of wood that he had arranged.

"You sound like you are giving up sometimes." The flames seemed to take. "It is hard to see this all ending well. I'm not even really sure that I get the gist of what it is that we are doing. I'm going on a lot of faith with you." Dean held out his hands to the fire to warm them. Castiel came down into a squat besides him and did the same.

"There is an incantation. It has been used just once before. I believe that it will call down my grace from the heavens, thus returning it to its rightful vessel." Castiel looked long at the flames as they grew and consumed in the pit. He raised his eyes to Dean, wondering if he would want more details, details that Castiel would have to improvise. The first part was true, mostly. He just didn't get into the details that concerned purpose and the inevitable epilogue. He also didn't explain the fact that he had always known of this solution to his little grace problem, but that he had done nothing. He did not feel that the sacred objects should be used to restore his grace for his own well-being. That would not have been enough to have started him on this mission. He was glad though, that Dean did not seem to wonder about that.

Dean accepted the scant details, as if they were enough. Castiel felt warm with Dean's faith, despite the fact that it was misplaced. Dean tipped his head back and looked up at the stars. "It's going to be a cold night. At least there won't be snow, though. It's damn clear. I think that we can see all of the stars."

Castiel tipped his head back too and stared out at the sky that use to be his playground. He puffed out little steam clouds just to see them float away. "I miss them."

"What do you mean?" Dean moved over closer to Castiel.

"I use to move among them, the stars. I use to feel the pull of them, the heat. The fun of ricocheting past planets, through darkness, toward one star after another is not a feeling to be forgotten." He gazed off longingly at them, a smile gracing his face as he remembered.

"Tell me more. Tell me what they looked like up close." Dean leaned a little. Their arms pressed up against each other. Castiel looked at Dean's face awash in firelight. He looked warm and golden.

Castiel swiftly turned away. "There is not a way to make it real enough through mere description. It was unique in that it was warmth and cold all at once. What made it special was the cold of the empty, vast darkness, and the way that it made one appreciate the approach of the warmth that came from the stars. There is almost nothing like it that I can compare it too here on earth."

"Almost?" Dean asked.

"Yes." Castiel did not elaborate. He just stared out at the fire in front of him, feeling Dean shift about a little at his side. He did not look at him, he couldn't.

Dean's voice whispered out again, "Almost?" It was a more insistent tone in the whisper. It required an answer, but Castiel could not supply one. Instead he turned and looked at Dean's questioning face. He just stared.

The look that was returned to him made him choose to answer albeit vaguely, "Yes, I said almost. There is one thing, but it will go without saying." He allowed a small quirk of his lips that seemed almost like a smile. It was subtle though, and then he turned back to the fire. He could hear Dean take in a breath that he had been holding back from.

"It's funny, the things we miss, the things that you don't appreciate enough when you had them. I miss baseball nights with my dad. The way that we would curl up on the couch together, not too comfortable mind you, because at any moment we would need to burst up from the cushions to yell at the umpire. I miss the ease of it. The way that it was normal and calm. I miss the warmth of knowing that someone else was in charge and that I could just be. I never could have appreciated it enough then, because of my age, but I do now."

"Your father was a good man." Castiel said, because he wanted to validate the memory and share in the moment.

"He was a man. Goodness is a term that is too subjective. I have to wonder what we even mean by it anymore." Dean's hand slid off of his leg down into the space between them. Castiel's hand found his. He gave it a friendly pat as if to say, you are good.

"He tried to make things better than they were when he first found them. That is goodness. It is hidden in the intentions and the actions that propel us onward." Castiel glanced back at Dean.

He laughed a little, "Really, Cas, isn't the road to Hell paved in good intentions?"

"It is not an apt saying. Our intentions matter. Your father's intentions matter. The fact that we all keep trying to fix the mistakes of the past matter. There has to be goodness in that, otherwise, why do we keep bothering."

"Sometimes I think that we are the definition of insanity. We keep doing the same thing, expecting different results." Dean gave Castiel a wry grin that sank back into seriousness a moment later.

"Maybe you are right about that. I feel sane though."

"I don't."

"Maybe I don't either." Castiel let his hand rest on Dean's and stared out at the flames licking the wood into blackness. Sparks would occasionally spring up, dancing on the air columns, making their way up, up, up to join the stars, only to burn out before they got there. Castiel was mesmerized by them. He reached out a hand to the pit and felt the warmth of it. "I think that we should turn in. We have a long day ahead of us tomorrow."

"Just a few more minutes, Cas. We don't need to talk. Let's just watch the flames burn down." Castiel nodded to him, taking in the glow of his soul mixed in with the amber tones of firelight. The stars just overhead were calling out to him tonight. He let his gaze linger on them and the paths that he had taken so long ago materialized before him. He wanted to snap into the sky, take the cold and heat and make it his cloak. He looked down at Dean again. Dean was looking back at the fire. He was reminded of what was like paths through stars and planets. It was not the same. It was almost the same. It was chills and warmth and heat so fierce that you feel it even when it is far away. It was almost the same, but not. He folded his fingers around Dean's hand and felt a little squeeze of acknowledgement. This was better.

* * *

><p><strong>Review, Fav., Follow, Rec. <strong>

**Thank you all so much for being the awesome readers that you are. Happy Thanksgiving to you all. I am truly grateful for you all and your encouraging words, intelligent dialogues, and well everything. Happy Holidays!**


	5. Bright Angel in the Dark

They had managed to pack all of their necessary gear into two packs. They even got all of the food figured out. They moved the Impala over to the larger multi-day lot and headed out. The first trail was called the Bright Angel Trail. Dean elbowed Castiel as they headed out past the sign. "Hey, Cas. This here is a bright angel trail. Are you bright enough to be here?"

"I don't know what you mean?" Castiel deadpanned.

Dean chuckled a little and stared down at his little hand held GPS. Castiel let his mind wander over the things that had made up his last twenty-four hours. It had been rough watching Dean's decline. He imagined that Dean was giving up. He seemed to be vulnerable in a way that he had not been before. It was odd. Castiel cycled through his memories and could not come up with a time that Dean had been so comfortable with him.

Castiel did not mind the closeness. It was comfort for him too. It was just different, unexpected. The tent was too small to afford much personal space, or so he told himself. He had woken up in the morning to Dean's body pressed around him. His back was pressed tight against Dean's chest. His head was tucked up under Dean's chin. Dean's arms were twisted around him, possessive and strong. His first instinct when he woke up was to run his fingers along the taut muscles that surrounded him. They twitched a little under his touch. He felt Dean's head and chin move behind him. Then Dean's breath was hot in his hair. He felt what seemed to be a kiss pressed into his scalp. Castiel told himself that it wasn't, that he was mistaken. Dean got up not long after and quietly slipped out of the tent.

Castiel let him believe that he had done so without waking him up. He imagined the last moments of sleep over again and again. He knew that he shouldn't. It was a distraction, a reward. And his path was still one of redemption. He could not let himself linger in those moments no matter how tempting. Before he had gotten up though, he took one small moment for himself. He rolled over and buried his head in the sleeping bag next to his own. He lingered there taking in deep lungs full of breath. He held them in, making them become memories.

* * *

><p>The night before had been more than sleep. In fact, some of the night was still lingering on in his head, troubling him as they packed their gear. He had dreamed. It was the vivid sort of dream that was more than a dream. It was as it had been for Dean in those first days after he had raised him up. Cas wondered if anyone could raise him up from his Hell, then shut that line of thinking down. The dream though lingered and occupied a certain place in his conscious thoughts.<p>

Hannah had been standing on a small wooden bridge that spanned a thin stretch of creek water. There were trees and shade and ethereal light penetrating the scene. He slipped into position beside her and watched the water with her. She seemed to have something on her mind, something that begged to be shared, something that she did not want to share.

He listened to her words that flowed out around him like narration in an empty auditorium. They were quiet words made louder by the near silent space around them. She spoke of feelings, of water on skin, of humans, and missions. She spoke of things that he thought about on his own and things that he pushed aside in order to just carry on. He felt as though she was trying to convince him of something. _These feelings, they aren't for me, for us._ She stood in front of him, timid and also strong. He wanted to give her words of comfort, words that would delay her departure, but he couldn't do that. He saw in her, righteousness, redemption. He wanted that for himself. He watched as she let go. He watched as the blue light of her grace slipped from her vessel's mouth, swirling up into the sky. The dream making it seem smaller than it really was. Perhaps she wanted him to feel less like this was grand or too big to be real. She let him watch her departure in this simple way. He knew that this was more than a dream. He knew that this was a reality for Hannah and that she wanted him with her.

Her light spread out into the sky, carried up past the leaves and endless blue above them. He wanted to follow her, but he did not have a way to do so. His own grace was gone. He could only release this borrowed grace, and that would only be death for him. He had a mission. He would carry on. He wished though that there was a way to fix other things though. He thought of Jimmy and what taking him had meant to Amelia and Claire. The dreamscape faded around him as Hannah's grace faded. He had stayed awake for hours after the dream had disappated. When sleep returned to him, it had been empty and sad.

* * *

><p>As he moved about their camp, his thoughts fell back to Hannah again and again. He would look to Dean careful in his movement. He would remind himself, that it hadn't all been selfish. His feelings were his own, but they were not what was pushing him forward. It was necessity. It was necessary to put the world right for Dean. Leaving now, as Hannah had, would not be right for him.<p>

There were things that he couldn't share with Dean, things that he had discussed with Sam. He had found a few moments before he and Dean had left to share with Sam the present situation. He reached out to Castiel then and rested his hand on his shoulder. "How are you doing?" His face, always a touch sad, showed lines of concern.

"I feel like I have no direction. I don't know where I am going now. At least there is this. I can help with this." Castiel tipped his head back toward where Dean was packing a ways off, out of earshot.

"I've looked up the incantation and the story behind it. I know what you are planning." Sam looked back at Dean too, making sure that he was still distracted by his task.

"I have to do this Sam. I can't have all of this be for nothing." Castiel hoped that Sam would let this happen, that he wouldn't fight him on it. Mostly, he hoped that he wouldn't tell Dean.

"Dean will hate me, if I let you do this. He will never forgive me." Sam's hand slipped from Castiel's shoulder now and lay heavy at his side.

"If things go right, then he won't. He'll understand. It'll take him some time, but he will." He looked at Sam now, taking in the worry. "He won't be the same, but he won't be like this. Will you be able to accept it?"

"If it is better than this. Will it be better?"

"If I didn't think so, I wouldn't be doing this. Trust me on that." Dean appeared to be finishing up.

"You left some things up on the computer."

"Oh, I thought that I closed that down."

"No, you just shut the laptop lid. The search was still there. So, Jimmy, huh?" Sam shuffled about a little.

"I was selfish to take him from his family, Sam. Recent events have reminded me of that. I need to fix that. I am worried that I can't, that I won't be able to do a thing." He felt the defeat of the moment. _There's just so much to fix and no way to do it all._

"At the time, you had no options. Plus, you released him to heaven. You said that he was in a better place."

"There are always options. I chose the selfish one. I should have found another way. Truth be told, this was the easiest, so I did it and did my best not to think about it." Dean was done and was coming over. "Thanks, Sam, for listening, and for being my friend."

Sam's arms were around him in an instant. It would have been a crushing hug if he had not had a bit of his angelic strength still in tact. "Thanks for being my friend, and Dean's, and everyone's. Thank you, Cas." Dean stood awkwardly at the side not understanding the outpouring of emotions.

"So, uh, Sammy, you're going to have to let the angel go."

"What jealous?" Sam quipped back as he released Castiel.

Dean screwed up his face into an appalled smirk, "No, ass."

"Jerk," Sam spat out quickly.

"Bitch," Dean's remark was almost a drawl.

"Love you too." Sam crushed his brother in a hug next. He stepped back after a moment. "Take good care of him."

They both replied in unison, "I will." Sam just smiled, but his eyes did not. Castiel knew that he was saying goodbye.

"I'll check in periodically from the road. I'll need information on the third item. If you could look into its location for me, that would be helpful."

"I will." Sam said as Hannah came into the room. They looked at each other. Cas knew that she wanted to speak with him. He avoided it. He was afraid at the time that it would hurt too much. Instead, they said goodbye with a look.

* * *

><p>The sky was not as clear today as it had been the night before. Winter was pressing out the blue of the sky with its grey clouds. "Hmm." Dean looked up with concern. "I am worried that we are going to be hiking in sludge if mother nature has her way." They were heading down Bright Angel Trail. In the distance, Castiel could see the Colorado River, fierce, white caps of foamy waves here and there racing away.<p>

"It's cold enough for snow, too, I think." Castiel rubbed his hands together. He had been feeling colder and colder ever since he had left the bunker.

Dean looked back at him, paused, and reached into his coat pockets. He pulled out gloves and walked over to Castiel. "It's not quite that cold, but here. You look like you could use these." He pulled up Castiel's hands and started to put the gloves on him.

"I can do it." Castiel said as he pulled his hands back and worked the gloves over his fingers. He didn't want to seem helpless. "When do we leave the trail?" He asked as he leaned over to look at the GPS that Dean had pulled back out.

"It'll be awhile yet. I think that we just need to cross the river up the trail a bit and then head off down the N. Kaibab Trail to the Falls. I think that Sammy might have been a little crazy to think that this was a day and half trek. I also find it odd that most of the journey is on marked trails. I wonder why no one else has found the tree yet."

"He planted it some time ago, so I doubt that most of this was so well marked. I would guess that the tree's presence has caused people to come here, marking out trails to get close to it, without people realizing what they were doing." The trail was meandering down further into the canyon. He was not looking forward to the walk back out, all uphill. "Sam's estimates do seem to be rather optimistic."

They began walking again and the air carried a hint of moisture. A distant rumble of thunder could be heard and Dean seemed to pick up the pace with it. Castiel moved faster too. In the distance they could see the pedestrian bridge that would take them across the Colorado River and along Bright Angel Creek. It would meander up a side canyon to Ribbon Falls. Sam had told him that the tree was just up past the falls, off trail. The land around them was rather barren. There weren't any people around. Even in bad weather, Castiel had thought that there would be someone, some intrepid hiker making their way up the trail. It was odd. Dean stopped again and pulled out some rain gear. "Here, put this on if you want to stay dry." He handed Castiel a rain poncho and put one on himself. He pulled the hood up and looked a little ridiculous. The poncho was covering not only him but the bag of gear slung over his back.

Castiel did the same though and they continued onward. He thought of the ritual and of the much more problematic issue that they would soon face. Melchior had said that they would be able to take from the tree if they were meant to. He had implied that those guarding the tree would kill them if they were not meant to take from it. Castiel wondered if he could take on this mission alone. He wondered if it was possible to get away from Dean for just long enough. He began plotting as the first big droplets of rain started falling down around him. Their loud splashes as they fell around him proved sufficiently distracting enough that he did not notice the figure that appeared behind him or hear the words that were spoken.

* * *

><p>He was warm. He was wrapped in a sleeping bag. He did not remember how he had gotten here. His eyes flickered up to the top of the tent. He was alone. Everything was too quiet. No rain, no birdsong, no noises of any sort. There was just the vacuum of air surrounding him. As the fog cleared from his mind, he suddenly came to realize the problem. Dean was not there. He sat bolt upright and scrambled out of the bag. He crawled his way out of the tent into the darkness. Near the campfire stood a figure.<p>

"Hello, Castiel." Crowley stepped away from the fire and reached down a hand to help Castiel up.

Castiel got up on his own, ignoring the hand. "Where's Dean?"

"Well, let's just dispense with the pleasantries then, I guess. He went after some sacred object. Told me to keep you here." Crowley smirked.

"Why would he do that? How did he even call you here?" Castiel felt like a fool. He paced about for a moment, to get his bearings straight. _Where are the falls?_ He was preparing to stalk off in search of them.

"He knew that you were planning to risk yourself. He said that you were not strong enough to take this on yourself. Supposedly, there are some guardians that you will need to be wary of."

"He should not be doing this." Castiel was growing more nervous by the second.

"Yeah, I tried to tell him. He summoned me while you were sleeping last night. It was touching really. Can't say that I forgive him, but there is something a little hard to quit in that big lug." He shrugged a little, "You know that well enough though, huh?"

"I'm going to him. How long ago did he leave?" There was light that burned up into the sky, white and blinding. It illuminated the hills around them. Crowley hunkered back a bit.

"Well, it looks like our boy took care of business."

"What did he do?"

"I'd guess that he killed the guardian."

Castiel crumpled a little. "No, no, no." _If killing humans has caused such damage, what will this do?_

"What, would you rather he just take the beating?" Crowley looked at him with confusion.

"If we were meant to have the resin, then it would have been given freely, no violence. Dean was not deemed worthy. It is why I needed to do this, not him." _What have you done, what have you done?_

"Oh, Castiel, so humble. Really, since when are you any more worthy than a Winchester? Speaking of which, he should be making his way down from the precipice soon. I think that I will skip the reunion. I've heard how he changes when he gets a little blood under those nails." In a snap Crowley had vanished and Castiel was left waiting alone for Dean. He looked back at the hillside, but it was dark, and his vision was not what it had been. He shivered, and felt the cold earth creeping up his legs. The mild breeze that kicked through the canyon sent him into deeper fits of shivering convulsions, or maybe it was the fear.

He did not know how long he had lingered on the ground. He felt unwell. He could feel hands on his body as he was roughly hauled onto his feet. He tried to open his eyes wider, to see who was moving him. "Dean?" His teeth were chattering as he spoke. He felt his body being lifted off of the ground. He was carried back to the tent, and, unceremoniously deposited in a heap on the sleeping bags. Dean was large and silent as he came into the tent with him, tossing the other sleeping bag on top of Castiel. "Are you okay?" He stuttered out at Dean, the same words as always.

Dean did not answer. He just shoved Castiel over and zipped up the tent flap. He was silently working out the sleeping bags around Castiel. He was methodical in his actions, almost too precise. Castiel was still shaking. _Keep talking to him. Make him talk._ Dean began to hum a tune unfamiliar to Castiel. It was eerie in the silence. His arms moved over him to pull the bags up to Castiel's chin. He did not smile. He looked down at Castiel and sat back with his knees pulled up to his chest. He stared and stared. Castiel loosened his arm from the bag and reached out to him. He placed his hand on Dean's leg. Dean looked down at it. The darkness was swirling about in Dean's form. Where his hand rested, there was a little light. He forced himself to get up then, free himself from the blankets.

He drew closer to Dean. "Are you okay?" Dean didn't answer. Castiel touched his arms. Light pooled around his arms. The darkness ebbed a little. He moved his hands up to Dean's face. "Are you okay?" He just stared back, humming still. Now though, the light was there, in his face. Dean moved his arms up from his legs. He rested them on Castiel's shoulders and moved him back to the bags. He began arranging the bags again, more kindly this time. When he finished, he rested a hand on Castiel's cheek.

Softly, a single word tumbled out. "Okay." He laid down beside Castiel then and just stared at him. And in this way, the night passed them onward toward what would soon be the day.

* * *

><p><strong>Review, Fav., Follow, Rec. Hope you all are enjoying this fic. Happy Friday :)<strong>


	6. Cold Desert Night

Dean was not himself. The darkness never fully retreated from him anymore, and Castiel felt the press of exhaustion almost constantly. Sam had found some information on the final item. Myrrh. The extraction of the item from this location was not described in any of Sam's research. He had only said that it appeared to be in the ghost town of Rhyolite, Nevada. Sam's research on this point, though, did not matter too much as Castiel had uncovered information on his own.

Dean was humming another Christmas song. It was at least, thankfully quiet. Castiel watched the desert fly by. They had been traveling for some hours. The whole journey from the South Rim of the Grand Canyon would be only a little over six hours. He had not slept fully in days. He doubted that Dean had really slept either. After Dean had retrieved the Frankincense resin, he had deposited Castiel in the tent, and they stayed there. Dean did not seem like he was in a hurry to leave. Castiel wanted to leave though. He wanted to race away from that place. Dean, though, just camped as though it was a vacation, a silent vacation.

He had tried to coax out conversations to no avail. They sat at night and stared at the fire, but they did not touch. He moved closer to Dean at one point while they had sat out under the stars, but he got up and pretended to fiddle with their bags. He did manage to form words then, though. "I think that you are well enough to make the hike out now. We will leave tomorrow."

Castiel sat shocked at first. It had been a lot of words for Dean. His whole vocabulary had seemed to be made up of hums and grunts for the last 48 hours. He replied, "Yes, but are you okay?"

Dean's vocabulary devolved again. "Mmm." He walked over to the tent and seemed to direct Castiel to it. He complied. They did not sleep though. And somehow, Dean had managed to lay in the tent in such a way as to minimize their contact. Castiel had shifted about, tossing and turning. The night was cold. He felt it deep in his bones. It was as though it was eating away at him. At times he felt like parts of him were claving away like the once grand glaciers of the north.

_Soon there will be nothing left,_ he had thought. They sat in icy silence in the car too. The cold still bit into him as he rested his head against the window. It was truly winter now. Not even the dry desert sands around them could make one deny it. He turned to Dean, and looked at the swirls of darkness under his skin. He decided to reach out to him again despite the rebuffs that he had experienced over the past two days. Dean did not shrug him off. A little light seemed to emerge under his hand as it rested on Dean's shoulder.

"Are you angry?" Dean asked.

He wondered where this line of questioning had come from. He had been too exhausted to really feel anger. There wasn't time enough anymore for that emotion either. He replied, "No, I am confused, not angry."

Dean looked at him and then back at the road. "Confused?" The uptick in his tone implied the question.

"Yes, why would you bring Crowley into this?"

"There was no other way. Who else would be able to keep you out of harm's way?" Dean's statement was delivered in a matter-of-fact tone.

"I was wrong then. I am angry." Castiel looked at him steadily, daring him to look back. Dean did not look back.

"Oh, well. You can't change what I did now." Dean glowed a little more under the touch that Castiel had not yet released.

"I am angry that you did not trust me to handle this. I am angry that you brought an untrustworthy demon into our mission." He stopped talking when another thought occurred to him. "What did his help cost you?"

Dean shifted about uncomfortably. "Nothing."

"Liar. Don't lie to me. Nothing with Crowley is ever free." He was worried now.

"When this is done, I have to help him with something. He was vague. I didn't get into the details. It won't matter anyway."

"Why won't it matter? Of course it will matter." Castiel dipped his head into his hands, exhaustion and frustration getting the better of him.

"It just won't. We just need to get you your grace, and the rest will work itself out." Dean looked over at Castiel then. "If I didn't know better, I would say that there was more to this mission of yours than what you are letting on. You were barely walking on our little hike, and you seemed to think that you would be involved in fighting the guardians."

"No, I was never going to fight them. They were going to just let me have some of the resin. They give the worthy access. Our cause is worthy." Castiel stared back at Dean.

"Well, that is not what they said to me. They were not going to give us anything."

"They were not going to give _you_ anything. You carry the mark, Dean. You are not going to get sacred items from servants of Heaven."

"It hardly matters. I got it, and they died."

"They did not deserve death."

"Would you rather that I had given up? God, Cas. You act like I wasn't doing this for you. I think that we will just go back to not talking." He huffed out a long breath of air.

"Is the talking or not talking a choice still? It seems like you are losing control. It seems like sometimes you just can't talk."

"I've been talking plenty."

"Two days, Dean. Two days of near silence. Today is a deluge of words, but for two days you barely made a sound. I am worried about what is happening inside of you." Castiel squeezed his shoulder a little. The light surged up a little. Dean seemed like he wanted to shrug him off, but Castiel did not allow that to happen.

"It's fine." He gripped the steering wheel. "If you are so worried about me killing things, then tell me what you want me to do at the next stop. Do you want me to hang out in the car while you stumble around in the dark, looking for some sacred, ancient myrrh or something?"

"Would you?"

"I might."

"Well, this should be the easiest of the three items. The town was a mining town, as most of these ghost towns are. There is a spot though, that contains what we need. We say the right words, and it will emerge from the ground. It should be simple."

"Hmm, what are the right words?" Dean asked.

"I won't be sharing them with you. I wouldn't want you to call on any friends. You will need me, and that necessity should keep you from doing anything stupid." Castiel leaned back into the seat more, feeling a little surge of his old strength warming up his spine as he spoke.

"Hmm, now who isn't being very trusting?"

"With good reason. I don't want you to kill anything else. Just go with me."

"I'm with you, Cas, but if something attacks us, I am not going to stand by and watch it all. I'm going to fight it." He left the main highway then and barreled down the last stretch of road to Rhyolite.

"Then I will do what I must too." They shared a look then, and Castiel saw that the light in Dean had spread significantly. _Maybe it is not too late yet. Keep fighting it, Dean._

They had walked the town as tourists might, looking at the abandoned buildings, and the statues that had been erected as a monument to the ones that had lived there before. "Those are creepy," Dean said.

"Said the former demon." Castiel had to chuckle a little at that. The statues were a little creepy. They looked like empty sheets that had been draped over people, only the people weren't inside of them anymore. There was a group of them on a sloping riser and one that was hovering over a bike. They were ghostly, particularly with the barren landscape as a background.

"Do you think that it is in one of the buildings?" Dean had asked as they made their way back to the car.

"No. It is in the circle." Castiel pointed back at a pattern of circles that were made near the statues. It was formed with rocks, a small circle inside with larger circles made up around it.

"Why do you think that it is there?"

"I can feel it." His strength had been coming back a little the closer that he got to the site. He wasn't sure what it was, but it felt like he was drawing something from Heaven. He had noticed that Dean had changed too. He seemed to be more subdued, less cocky. "We will need to wait until nightfall. When the moonlight is hitting the center of the circle, then I can call forth the item."

So they waited. Dean was quiet, but not in that eerie way that had fallen on him before. It was more contemplative. Castiel was silent too. As the evening drew on into night, the moonlight cast an ethereal glow over the land in front of them. "So, do you really want me to wait in the car?" Castiel thought about saying yes, but he thought that it couldn't hurt to let him come along. There were no dangers here, according to the old stories. It was a simple matter of knowing the words.

"You can come with me. Just don't do anything stupid."

"Like I ever do anything stupid." Dean smirked. It was a little of his old charm that eased out of his look that caused Castiel to smile.

They made their way past the statues to the circles. Castiel directed Dean to stand off to the side, far from the circle. He didn't know if the presence of a demon would have an impact. Castiel carried the box that Melchior had given to him and knelt down. He leaned in close to the earth and whispered the ancient words into the dry, desert beneath him. He came back up to his feet when nothing happened. Silence. He looked over at Dean who was shuffling about, seemingly uncomfortable off to the side. Then, the earth beneath him shook a little. There was the smell of licorice and a bitter earthy smokiness. A challis came up from the ground. It was wooden and it was smoking. Why it didn't burn could only be attributed to the fact that it was of a supernatural origin. The scent of it grew stronger. Castiel felt his own strength grow. He felt the fatigue of the past few days sliding away the longer he stood there staring at the item.

He knelt back down and opened Melchior's box. The box contained wood that could contain the myrrh. It was also supernatural in origin. If it had not been for this gift from Melchior, they would not have been able to have retrieved this new item.

He lifted the challis and tipped some of its contents into the box. The heady aroma circling him in smoke and warmth. He smiled with the joy of his new found strength. He looked back to where he had left Dean, and his face fell. He was not upright. He was crumpled and still on the ground. There was movement just beyond him. The white masses of the statues had slipped from their riser. They were flowing toward Dean. Castiel stood, swiftly and bolted toward them. He had carried an angel blade, never thinking that it would be necessary. The flash of moonlight sparked off of it like lightning as he swung it out toward their nearly corporeal forms.

* * *

><p><strong>Review, Fav., Follow, Rec. <strong>

**Thanks for all of the warm thoughts on the last chapter, smalls907 and Mummabro. I love when people speculate too. It's always fun to see what how people have interpreted things. I apparently have decided to have a few fics going on at once. Hopefully, I can keep them straight. This one, though, is nearing its end at chapter 10. Thanks for reading. 'Till next time...**


	7. A Guiding Hand to Lead You

The forms spread out around them. Castiel hovered over Dean in a protective crouch. He held out his hand in front of him with the blade ready to swing out in a death dealing arch. They drifted in circles around them. It was a type of fluttery dance of light against the backdrop of desert darkness. There was a faint blue electricity that seemed to course from them as each one brushed over the edges of the others. Castiel slowly scanned the figures, turning his head about to see over his shoulder to the ones behind him. There were too many of them; he could not take them all.

"Do not come closer." He lowered his voice into a feral growl. His arms extended outward. He felt strong. He felt the energy, that had been so quick to leave him before, creeping back into his form. He felt as though he had his grace back. He felt as though his body was filled with power and vigor. He could hear the voices beyond the world, the voices that were melody and song. He could hear the faint crackle of the heavenly hosts as the volume grew and increased with each moment that he stood there, surrounded by these creatures.

"We are not here to hurt you, Castiel." A voice drifted into his mind, an aria of song in his subconscious.

"Who are you?" He spun around a little, looking at the ones behind him. The creatures still drifted about in circular patterns. Their forms were beginning to blend a little in blue white light as if they were becoming a sea of waves cresting over each other, surrounding Castiel and Dean.

"Today we are guardians." The voice was now voices, blending together in a harmonious song.

"Then you can see that my cause is worthy. You will allow me to take this gift?" His tone shifted upward, implying the question.

"Oh, Castiel. So much sacrifice. But sacrifice does not necessarily equate to worth." The voice or voices had a note of familiarity to it. Castiel tried to single out one form over the others. He felt his strength peak. He felt like he could snap from this spot if he needed to with Dean and the box. He did not do so, though. That voice held him.

"Hannah?" He whispered out to the flowing masses around him. There was silence for a moment. The spinning slowed and one form emerged from the rest. The white cloak had solidified again but only a little. Beneath its folds, energy and light electrified the space. It glowed forth, brilliant and blue. The land around them was illuminated in the heavenly light. The form drew closer to Castiel. He lowered his blade as the arm of the cloak extended toward him.

"Castiel." The voice was Hannah's as he had remembered it before. Her true form sang out to his own. He felt her energy trickle up his hand to his arm and then it fell lightly on his face. He leaned his cheek to the side in a type of nuzzling caress. She drew closer. "What have you done, Castiel?" The energy of her form seemed to shrink down toward Castiel's feet near Dean. He crouched down further in a protective move.

"I have done nothing." Castiel stared into the light, willing Hannah to understand what he had to do, what had to happen.

"It is a foregone conclusion. You have already decided your path, but I can only hope to convince you that this is not the right path. You can not throw away this gift. This is not what was intended for us when we were made. It is corruption. You are choosing the worst type of abomination. The consequence of this choice is too great."

"He is not an abomination." Castiel felt his emotions slip a little. She wasn't understanding the situation. _How could she?_

"I did not say that he was." The light of her form drifted out toward Dean and glazed his hand that was lying still on the desert sand. Castiel moved more between them, separating them.

"You don't understand."

"I understand. There are things that you do for love. There are things that you do for redemption. There are things that you do just because you must. This is something that you feel you must do for all of those reasons." Her voice was low and luminous. "You love him more than is safe, Castiel. I worry what that type of love will do. It is that sort of love that sometimes destroys. Don't forget the importance of the mission. Don't forget that the thing that we were meant for since before there was time. We were made to serve. Our humans matter. Don't let your love for one human be the thing that destroys all of the others."

He closed his eyes and took in her words. He had not wanted to think about anyone or anything beyond his own plan. It was the thing that mattered. He would make this right the only way that he knew how. He would give Dean back his light. He would help him push back the dark. He opened his eyes to Hannah and stood. "I will make the right decision." She eased back from him and joined the others.

"I pray that your words are true." She slipped back into the mass of swirling light and then the dance of the cloaked figures dispersed. They moved back to the platform and back into the distance. He felt some of his strength leave with them. The forms grew still then. The light shot up into the dark night, joining the stars. Castiel fell to the ground, his body draped over Dean's. They laid there for a time in the night. When he felt like he was most alone, that was when a cold set of fingers drifted up to his arm. A hand pressed to him. He felt it pulling him back to himself. He felt it lead him.


	8. Love in a Desperate Place

He had carried Dean back to the car. He had been barely conscious in Castiel's arms. The way that his legs dangled loose over his arm worried him. It had been awkward getting him into the car, but he had managed. He knew that they needed to get far away from this place. It was sucking away something vital from Dean. At first, he had tried to just snap them away, use his reenergized self to escape. He was able to move himself through space, but not if he tried to take Dean. It was as though there was something tying him down.

He drove west. He drove fast. He reached out to Dean across the expanse of the car in an attempt to pull him out. His light was there, glowing away beneath his unconscious features. He saw Dean's hand move a bit, a slight fluttering of life. He had felt Dean's hand on him back in Rhyolite, but it had been different. It was like Dean was reaching out to him with his soul and not his physical body.

He drove for many hours. He had considered stopping many times. He couldn't help but think though that distance had to be achieved. He did not have a clear destination. He did not know if he needed one. He had all of the items. He knew what he had to do next. He had doubts though. Hannah's words were tormenting him. He kept asking himself if he was being selfish. He kept asking himself if he was supposed to save Dean. But that thought was not one that he could handle. _There is nothing more important._ It was as though this feeling had been programmed into him. It seemed to be a core component of who he was. _Dean's protector. Dean's guardian._ He continually reached out to Dean and pressed his hand to him, willing Dean back. Hoping that his will to fix this would be enough.

After some time had passed, the land began to change. The scenes flashing past the windows in a blur were no longer sand and sagebrush. There were trees now. At first they just pocked the landscape here and there. Soon they became thicker and more prevalent.

He saw the glistening waters of Lake Tahoe in the distance and decided that he would stop. It was mid-afternoon and he needed to stop, just stop. He had left the main roads and found a long barren unpaved road that meandered down to the lake. He took the route slowly and stopped when the road came to the water and then looped along its edge. He shut off the car and reached out to Dean. He pressed his hands to Dean's chest, closed his eyes and concentrated on the warm core of energy that was coursing around inside of him. He pressed it out toward Dean. He felt a stirring beneath his fingers and the steady thrumming of Dean's heartbeat. Then he felt his hands covered. He opened his eyes and saw Dean staring back at him.

"What are you doing, Cas?" Dean's voice was a whisper. His usual strength was gone.

"I'm saving you." Castiel answered honestly. He wanted to tell Dean everything. He wanted to tell him that this was never about his grace, or his life, or anything more than just him. He wanted to tell him, because he wanted him to know that he was worthy of salvation. He wanted to tell him, because he wanted Dean to feel loved and valued. He had heard too often from those that guard, from those that they had encountered, from even Dean himself that they were lacking in worth. He recoiled internally from those thoughts. _Dean was worthy._

He felt a surge of strength in Dean as he yanked his hands from his chest. "Stop it, Cas. Just stop it." Dean's voice even seemed to be growing stronger. Castiel moved his hands back up to Dean, but they came to nothing. Dean threw open the door and got out. "Why do you keep doing this? You need to stop."

"I don't understand why you are getting angry." Castiel walked around the car toward him.

"I heard everything that she said, all of it, Cas. I know what is happening. I may not know exactly, but I am not stupid. I told you that you needed to end me, and I let you convince me that I was necessary. You convinced me that you needed me. Damn it, Cas, I killed people. I killed people. You have to stop saving me. You have to! You have to! You have to!" He was stalking about by the car yelling. Then he turned to Castiel desperation and torment pouring out of his face. Then calmer, but not by much he said, "Why, Cas? Why would you do this to me?"

Castiel whispered out to him, "I am just trying to save you. I just need to save you. Nothing else matters except for that." He felt the twitch in his eye, and if he cried he imagined that it would feel like this moment.

"You are wrong. I am just one man. Hannah even said so. I am just one person, and if saving me hurts everyone else, then it is wrong to save me. You have to listen to her. You know that she is right. Castiel couldn't listen to him anymore. There was truth in his words, but he couldn't accept them.

"If you don't matter then nothing does." Castiel looked at him steadily, drawing closer, wanting to press more of the darkness back. Dean's form though was not darkness right now. So his desire was something else. It was something that he could not acknowledge. It was too selfish. He did not feel that he deserved it. He wasn't really thinking about what he deserved or didn't deserve now. He was really just thinking about how this mission was failing, how Dean would never let him do what he had to do. He was losing control of his carefully guarded emotions. He was angry and sad, frustrated and overwhelmed. It was all he could do to just keep from lashing out, but he knew that it would do no good. He wanted to fix Dean, not destroy him.

Dean just stood there. Dean grabbed him by the collar and pulled him to him. "You have to do the right thing, Cas. I can't do it myself. I don't have the ability. I need you to help me end this. Even Cain couldn't end it himself. I was supposed to help him with that, and I failed on that score too. I don't know what else to say, Cas, but you have to do this. You are the only one that I can trust. Please."

Castiel leaned his head down to Dean's chest. He felt like he had lost. He cast about in his head for a solution, any solution that would not take Dean away. Dean's hands loosened on his collar and moved around him. He felt the pressure of Dean's hands clinging to his back, holding him to Dean's chest. He listened to his breathing, stuttering and sharp against his head. He concentrated on the warmth of his body that was alive and filled with so much goodness. _How could I hurt you? How could you ask me to do this?_ He tipped his head back and he looked at Dean, his face just above his own. _I can't. I can't. I won't._ He stared at him, waiting for the moment to end. It didn't. "Okay, Dean." He felt the words stabbing their way out of his body. "I will still need to retrieve my grace though, to do what you wish. I won't be strong enough without it." Castiel wanted to curl up somewhere and hide. _Then I won't be made to do anything. _

"Thank you, Cas." Dean released him. The cold bite of the winter around them sent noticeable chills along Dean's body. "When can we start the ritual?" Dean was stiff, matter of fact in his speech.

"Tonight. It must be done under the stars." Castiel felt defeated a little. Dean sounded like he had given up. He just wanted him to live, to want to live. He wanted to give him the little piece of whatever was missing from his being. He did not know how to do that though.

"Then let's set up camp here. We can do the ritual tonight. Then it can be done." It was still many hours before it would be late enough. Castiel followed Dean to the back of the car and helped him pull out some of their camping gear. They did not need to set up the tent or really make camp since they were not planning to stay, but they did it anyway to just have something to do, some physical activity that could occupy time. They did not speak. They just set up the tent and then Dean built up a small campfire. Castiel sat off to the side and stared out at the water. The evening was getting closer. He willed it back. He stood back up, walked closer to the water, and tossed some pebbles into it, watching the circles roll back to the shore.

He felt Dean's hand on the small of his back and turned to him. He hadn't heard him slip up beside him. Dean just stood there, looking out at the water with him. _How do I put this off? How do I make this last?_ Dean's hand moved a little, like he was trying to rub into Castiel's back some amount of comfort for what he was making him do. "I'm sorry, Cas." Dean muttered out to him. Castiel shrugged away from him and stalked back to the fire. He was not truly cold, but he was unhappy, and Dean's words were not helping. Distance was not helping either though.

Dean followed him. He stood alongside Castiel, silent. "Can we just not," Castiel said.

"You don't want to talk about it?" Dean looked over at him, the firelight illuminating them both as the early evening descended upon them.

"No, I don't." Castiel looked back at him.

"What do you want to do then?" Dean stared at him calmly. The light was all that Castiel could see. He swallowed down his first answer the one that he could not give words to.

"Let's just talk, but not about that."

"Okay, tell me about the ritual. Tell me about the magi." Dean offered up the topic without even seeming to consider the fact that it was still the same topic.

Castiel huffed out a sigh and told Dean what he wanted to hear. They sat down by the fire on the sleeping bags that Dean had set there for that purpose. "So, the magi that gave gifts to the Christ child were guided by angels. Heavenly voices had called down to them from on high. They had asked these wise men to bring gifts across a great stretch of desert land. It was not the gifts that were the most important things. It was what the gifts could do. For each item, when brought together with the proper words could call down the grace of the angels into their vessels. Once this had happened, then the angels could watch over the child. They could act as guardians on this mortal plain. In theory, if we do this ritual, my grace will be called down to its vessel, and I will be as I once was. The magi were vessels. They watched over the child as he grew up. They shared a profound bond with him until his physical end."

"So, they were kind of like us. I mean, except for me being way less innocent and all."

Castiel looked at him with sadness. _I'll never be able to convince you that you are good._ "There are parallels, certainly."

"Cas, I know that you said that you didn't want to talk about it, but, I need you to do one more thing." Dean sounded a little subdued. Castiel watched him for a beat then nodded. "I need you to explain this to Sammy. I need you to tell him that I am in heaven. You need to make it convincing, because if you don't, he'll try to bring me back. I need him to let me go."

"Why wouldn't you go to heaven?" Castiel looked at him perplexed.

"I am a knight of Hell. I don't think that my kind is wanted there." Dean tried to sound funny. His tone was a little lost on Castiel.

Castiel just looked at him through the ever increasing dark. He felt the twitch in his eye that could be tears if he could cry. He lowered his head to his knees and stared straight down. He couldn't move, couldn't look at Dean, couldn't engage anymore. _How could he be so cavalier about this? He thinks that he is making this easier for me._ He felt Dean next to him then, his arms around him. "I'm sorry. I know that I am asking for too much."

Castiel just stayed like he was, head to his knees, but now with Dean's arms on him. "It's time for the ritual," Castiel muttered. He looked up then with a thought. "I want something from you, Dean. If you give me what I want, I'll do as you ask. I'll lie to Sam. I'll do it all."

"Okay. What do you want." Dean leaned toward him. Castiel wanted time. He wanted time enough to make things right. There would never be time enough for that, but he wanted it. Most of all he wanted to love Dean, and time would not allow for that to be shared. He wanted to live long enough, and have Dean live long enough to fully understand all of it. No one ever seems to know just how short life can be until it is at its end. He felt that fact painfully now.

"I want you to live for one more day."

"Is that all." He sounded a little disappointed. Castiel wondered why.

"I really want you to live forever, but I know that there are limits to what you will agree to."

"I just thought that there would be more. You looked like you were thinking of something more than just a day. I can give you a day. We stay here though. I don't want to be where I can hurt someone." Dean looked serious, and Castiel nodded his agreement.

Castiel got up to set up the items down by the lake. He knelt before them and held out his hands to the heavens. Next, he held his hand over each item and breathed out a single word of Enochian over each. The word fell from his mouth as a breath of fire onto each item. A small flame danced up from each into the air above them. Dean stood back behind Castiel. He could feel him there. He wondered if the grace would come to him right away, or if they would have to wait. He hoped for a waiting period, anything to prolong the inevitable separation between them. The flames jumped up then and grew, until he had to back up from them. "Look, Cas. In the sky." Dean was pointing up.

Castiel looked up and saw blue electric light streaming down from the heavens. It was pouring down toward him. He tipped his head back in anticipation, as the light came to him. He turned to Dean then and saw as the man stared in awe back at him. He wanted to say something to him, before everything changed. He felt the light surround him. It glowed around his form waiting for Castiel to give it entrance to his vessel. He continued looking at Dean and saw that he was so much light too. He could not see the once ever present darkness. He was a beautiful soul, and Castiel was filled with love for him. He would do whatever he needed, whatever he wanted. "I love you, Dean Winchester." And as the words left his mouth, the light of his grace poured into him.

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><p><strong>AN: Thank you all for reading this. I am going to finish it by Tuesday morning, because I don't want to overlap it too much with the mid-season finale that will likely go in very intriguing ways. I will want to incorporate things from it into my fic, and then this won't ever end. Plus, I am writing a fluffy little Christmas fic, 25 Days of Christmas, that is needing more attention, since it is going to be a daily until, well, Christmas. Also, there is my other baby Dean, the Dangerous, and the Damned, which is thankfully written out a ways, so I have a little breathing room.<strong>

**So, hope you are all enjoying this, and thank you for the reviews and encouragement. Love and Unicorns, Speary.**


	9. One More Day

He did not remember being moved back to the campfire. He did not remember Dean carrying him away from the lakeside, his arms wrapped tight around him. He did not remember most of the little details but it didn't matter. Dean's lips tasted like salt. He felt the warm wash of his tongue sweep through his mouth, and he welcomed it. He found himself trying to keep up with the motions and choices that Dean was making. Dean's hands pulled at Castiel's hips, so his hands drifted down to Dean's and did the same. Dean's hands pulled at his coat and shirt, removing them as if it was the simplest thing. Castiel copied Dean's moves back, pulling off his coat and shirt, although not as neatly. The shirt got a little stuck when Castiel tried to pull it past his head.

"Sorry." Castiel muttered and Dean just laughed at him. He helped with the process. He ran kisses down Dean's neck and chest, trying to touch as much of him as he could. The feeling coursing through him was desire and need and love. He was desperately trying to hold onto so much while at the same time just letting go. He felt Dean melting into him. His mouth glazing a trail of wet down his body. "Dean." He felt the word fall out of him.

Dean looked up at him as he moved along the plains of his stomach. "I love you, Cas," and he dipped his head again, almost in shyness. He continued to kiss Castiel in as many places as he could reach from this angle. "Cas." He eased back up to his face, nuzzling into his neck, hands roaming down to his hips. "I don't know what to do." Dean leaned back and looked longingly into his eyes.

"I have no expectations." Castiel did not know what he wanted, but he knew that he wanted Dean to be happy. He wanted to make him happy, even if it was temporary, even if everything else was hell. He could get this one thing right, he thought. "No matter what, always know what you have meant to me, what you will always mean to me."

"I've been a pretty bad example of what a person should be. I hope that you will be able to just remember the good stuff." Dean smiled at him.

"Only good stuff, Dean. You've been the best example. I would never have understood what it meant to love if I had not met you." Dean's hand grazed over his pants, feeling the effect that he had on Castiel.

"I think that maybe I have taught you some things." He smirked a little. "I think that you already had the love thing down before you met me. You were always better than I deserved."

"Funny, I was just thinking the same thing about you." He ran his hand up Dean's side and felt him shiver. Dean's hand slipped under his waistband of his pants and he thought out loud, "Why am I still wearing clothes?" Dean laughed.

"Good question." He pulled off Castiel's pants and then looked down at his own. "Why am I still wearing clothes?" Castiel laughed now. "Like I said before, I really don't know what I am doing." He was still smiling in a goofy way that was making Castiel warm. In that moment he suddenly became concerned for Dean. It was winter.

"You are going to get cold." Dean laughed again, a deep belly laugh that shook Cas a little. "I'm serious, it is too cold for you not to have clothes."

Dean just fell down on top of Castiel then in a heap of body shuddering laughs. "I don't think that you realize just how incredibly warm you are making things, Cas. I mean feel me." He plucked up Castiel's hand and placed it on his chest. It was quite warm. "I dare say, that you are making me quite hot at the moment. It is a good thing that it is winter." He began kissing him again. Castiel stopped worrying and kissed him back.

"I don't know what to do either." Castiel murmured between kisses. "Tell me what you want."

"I just want us to keep doing this. I don't know. If you want me to stop, just say so."

"I won't."

"You won't say?"

"No, I won't want you to stop. Not ever." Castiel looked at him, wanting him to see how much more he was saying. That with just one word they could stay this way. Dean could keep living, and Castiel would follow him to the ends of the earth. And they would never let each other down even when the rest of the world did. It would be okay if they could be together.

They didn't speak as much after that, except for murmured words of affection, tiny words of love and desire that Dean would never have uttered before, except now it was like the end of the world and the consequences of words could just be damned. The night passed on like this and they figured out what each other needed. They found little ways to make the night seem long, and for the conclusion of it all to live in some pretend universe of their minds that they could set aside for a long while. They lived whole lifetimes in that night with each other. They lived as they had not lived before, the angel and his human. For a time they had each other, they had happiness, they had what they had wanted and needed for so long. For a time each of them felt whole.

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><p><strong>Review, Fav., Follow, Rec. <strong>

**AN: So this chapter is a little short. I don't think that I will get the next chapter finished tomorrow, so you will likely have to wait until Wednesday. Thanks for reading it, and such.**


	10. The Gifts of Wise Men

It had been Christmas Eve. In some places, families gathered around tables filled to bursting with holiday food. In some places that had been the time for gift exchanges and communal family gatherings. The warmth of home and hearth inviting one and all to partake in the collective occasion. For many, the day prior had been filled with hustle and bustle, frustration and solitary efforts. It is the unusual irony of the season. Many lose site of the irony and just continue to plow ahead without regard to the things that are being plowed over.

There are after all many distractions. The lights that glow out from storefronts proclaiming the best prices on the things that your family wants, needs. Thus the masses flock to the stores, the online purveyors, the varied places where they can find the gift that makes someone feel special. All the while they are not together. They are plotting and planning, buying and wrapping, scurrying about in many solitary efforts to bring about a spark of holiday joy.

It isn't until all of this rush finally collides with Christmas Eve that the true gift of the holiday season can be felt. Instead of brightly wrapped packages under light speckled trees it is the coming together of the people that matter. Children gathered in anticipation, parents and grandparents sitting cozy by the hearth, warm with food and love and the presence of each other, these are the moments that are the gift.

The world gets wrapped up in the gifts. What it means to give, truly give, is a concept that is questioned with constant regularity during this season. There are even signs that grace street corners and windows proclaiming that it 'Tis the Season of Giving. And there are gifts on that Christmas Eve that were worth so much, gifts of time and love. Gifts that could not be wrapped up in festive paper with colorful bows.

Some gifts are given constantly, and the world just cannot pause for long enough to savor them. One need only look out at the night sky full of stars to see the broad expanse of seemingly tiny lights shining out of the darkness. One need only fill one's mind with the vast expanse of stories and dreams collected in the brilliance of each little spot of brightness in the dark canvas. This gift of nature, this gift of stars is always there, always shining down, too present sometimes to be noticed.

It was the star in the east that the wise men followed. It was the star in the east that lead them onward with their gifts. It was the star that told them a tale in all of its brightness. The stars still tell a tale, if one has a mind to look up and see it.

There are most definitely stories in the stars. Those stories are gifts. There are whole worlds of heroes and legends traced out in them, born of the imaginations and dreams of men. The invisible lines that make up the constellations were once the paths of an angel racing to feel the contrast of temperatures in the vast emptiness. Those little pinpricks of light found their places in children's stories too. For some children had been told that the stars twinkled when an angel passed on the other side of them. For the stars in those stories were windows to heaven. Perhaps in some ways they were. The stars sparked imaginations. They made men dream of something beyond the world beneath their feet. The stars made them aspire to greatness. For if they were out there, then what more might there be that they could not see?

For there is always more than the world can see. More than the tangible laid out in front of us. The tangible things from the gifts beneath the trees to the stars shining over us all serve to remind us of the greatest gifts that we can give to one another. They remind us of the things that we forget, the things we leave behind when we rush and and fumble. They remind us to pause and just give ourselves. And when we do, when we take the time to just be, just love, then we have truly given a gift that is worthy, a gift that matters, a gift that lives.

So, on that night, gifts were given. Gifts of love underneath starlight. There were those that felt like they had received more than they deserved. There were those that had regrets. There were those that just loved. Then there were those that did all of that, but still carried the lingering need to plan, to plot, to fix.

And high above them, beyond the stars, the universe looked down on them with favor. For love is the greatest gift of all, and with it, sometimes, one can heal the most damaged of things. The magi knew this when they carried their gifts to the newborn child. Lovers know this when cradled in the warmth of their loved one's arms. Sometimes even, it is known without anything being said or done. It is felt like electricity from nearby stormclouds. And love when it is felt like this, when it is given, is the wisest most lasting gift of all.

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><p>Castiel had been less than honest with Dean. He did not feel bad about it as he held him in his arms. His fair hair pressed flat on the side of his face where he had been laying before Castiel had scooped him up to him. He had worried about waking him, but he gave up that worry for the comfort of just holding him. Dean did not stir much. He just kept on laying there in Castiel's arms, smooth, even breaths ghosting out of his slightly parted lips.<p>

Eventually, he woke up, and Castiel was a little disappointed. He stood and got dressed. Castiel watched for a bit then said, "Why bother, I'll just have to take them off of you again."

Dean smiled at him, "I am going to call Sam. I want to talk to him one more time." And with those words the spell from the other night was broken.

"Oh. Okay, Dean." Castiel got up then too, and began putting on his own clothing. Dean seemed to see the effect that his words had, and he moved back over to him and pulled him into a kiss.

"It'll be okay, Cas."

"No, Dean. It won't. It won't ever be okay." He ran his hand up to his face and held it until Dean turned back to his task. Once dressed he pulled out his phone and walked off to have a private conversation with Sam.

He knew that Dean would never forgive him, but he couldn't do what Dean asked of him. He just couldn't. He walked over to the water's edge and looked down at the items all burned out and defeated looking. _Like me. _He saw Dean down the beach a ways. He looked like he was talking, but he couldn't hear him at this distance. He ran his fingers along the edges of the items and saw a little spark of life lingering in each one. He smiled, knowing that it would be enough.

Dean was coming back now. "Everything okay, Cas?" He stood just behind Castiel when he spoke. Castiel stood up then and nodded.

"How's Sam?"

"Good. He had a lot of questions. I told him that I would explain everything when I got home. You will need to do that for me." Dean walked over to Castiel and put his hand on his shoulder.

Castiel tipped his head back and stared up into the too bright sky. It was blue and cloudless. The winter bite of air provided a stark contrast to it as it looked like it should be warm with summer promise. Castiel could feel Dean's fingers pressing comfort into him. His thumb rubbed back and forth on his neck like Dean just knew what this was doing to him. "They are beautiful."

"What is?" Dean tried to follow the path of Castiel's gaze up to the sky.

"The stars." Castiel continued to stare off at the bright sun soaked sky. His face awash in light seemed pleased and momentarily content.

Dean stepped to his side and said, "Hate to break it to you, Cas, but the stars aren't out right now."

Castiel turned to him and placed his hands on his cheeks. His fingers wrapped just a little behind his head, back into his hair. "I hate to tear down your illusions, Dean, but the stars have not gone away. The sun is just so bright that you can't see them. They are there, though, always. I had forgotten. I had started seeing things like a human. I had forgotten that sometimes we have to see past the brightness of one thing in order to take in the beauty of all of the other little spots of light."

Dean looked out at the sky again, then returned his gaze to Castiel. "So, you understand why we have to do this, why I have to ask this of you?"

"I understand things now, Dean, that I didn't understand before, but there are things that you need to understand too, before I do this. They are important." He pressed his fingers more to Dean's neck, rubbing his thumbs along Dean's jaw line. He felt Dean's hands move to his back, fingers kneading at his muscles there.

"It's okay, Cas. Tell me." Dean encouraged and Cas took a deep needless breath.

"First, know that I have loved you more than I ever should have, and that I will continue to do so." He seemed to struggle for words before continuing. "There is a reason that the cure did not last before. We cured you of the demon for a time, but no great sacrifice was made to make it stick. That was the greatest problem that Cain had faced for millenium after millenium. That was the part that the biblical scholars got right. The curse ostracized him. No one would really go near him. Why would anyone sacrifice anything for someone that they didn't know? Why would anyone want to help him shed this curse, if it meant that they would have to take it on?" Castiel dipped his head down to Dean's chest then and fell silent.

"Then I came along, huh. Saved him from his stupid curse without even knowing him."

"Yes, you did. You always were too willing to throw yourself on the pyre, be the martyr. The magi were like that too. They understood what it meant to give of themselves in order to protect something that mattered. They stood out on the wide desert plains, under the canopy of stars and called down the light. The light, the grace, gave them purpose. It was what mattered, what was worthy." Cas tipped his head back again and looked long into Dean's eyes.

"This is a worthy cause, Cas. We will save people by doing this. I know that I seem okay right now, but it won't last. It has to be this way."

"I know that this is a worthy cause, just as I have always known that you are a worthy man. It is your selflessness that will always surprise me the most, how quick you always are to give to others what you think that they need. Even last night, you chose to be with me, merely because you felt that I needed that."

Dean interrupted him then, pressing his lips down to Castiel's in a rough, desperate kiss. His hands moved up to Castiel's face, holding him there, pressing need and want and desire into the moment. Castiel responded to it. His hands dropping down to Dean's chest, fingers feeling each deep beat of Dean's heart. Dean broke away. "I won't let you confuse what last night was for me, for either of us. I wanted that. Me. I was selfish. I needed you to be mine before I gave up everything. I told you that I loved you, Cas. How often have you heard me say that?" Castiel just looked at him.

"Just then."

"Exactly, so don't you go off telling yourself that you were some sort of charity case last night. You were more than that. I wish that I had given you something that mattered, something worthy of what you have given to me." Dean kissed him again and Castiel let him.

"You have." His voice dropped low and they stood there for a time, just holding each other. "We should have talked more."

"There were a lot of things that we should have done more of." Dean's half smile made Castiel laugh a little, then he was serious again.

"Even now, Dean, you manage to focus on all the wrong things."

"Nah, that's where you are wrong, Cas. This is what we should have been focusing on all along. Maybe then we wouldn't be dealing with this now. I wish that I would have seen this all, let myself see this." He ran his hand down Castiel's arm until he reached his hand. They twined their fingers together. "So, you said that the reason that the cure didn't work permanently was because there was no sacrifice attached to it. I guess that I don't see why that matters now. We aren't dealing with a cure anymore."

"It matters. We can't get rid of the problem without a great sacrifice." Castiel was not looking at him now. He was afraid that Dean would realize. He wasn't ready for him to realize. He wanted to draw this out for as long as he could. He wanted to make each second with Dean an eternity. He needed this. He needed it to last.

Dean's voice was cautious, low and on the cusp of angry, "What are you saying, Cas?"

"The magi were just men. They wandered the deserts with one intent, to give of themselves to the holy child. They viewed this cause as worthy, perhaps the most worthy cause of all. For what could be greater than to sacrifice your life for the love of mankind. They saw this child's potential, his greatness." Dean's hand gripped Castiel's fiercely the more he spoke, but this did not stop him. "They knew what they would have to give, and they did it without hesitation. They made their way through the desert, and under the night stars they heard the songs of the angels. It was as though the very stars themselves were singing out to them." Dean's other hand was squeezing Castiel's arm, seeming to propel him toward the end of his story.

After a moment Castiel continued. "I was there then. I watched from the stars. I watched them call down the grace. I watched the magi take in the angelic forms, their bodies giving up the souls of the men that had inhabited them before. They had never even seen the child, never knew just how all of their choices would play out, but they did it just the same. It was like it had been with Jimmy Novak. When he chose to give up his body for a cause that I had told him was worthy. He trusted, blindly and completely. It was everything that was so beautiful about humanity."

"Cas, I need you to tell me that you haven't done anything stupid. I need you to tell me that you haven't come up with some new plan to save me." Dean sounded desperate. His face pained, just a breath from Castiel's.

"I have always had the same plan. It just hurts more now. I just didn't realize how hard it would be to leave you."

"What are you saying? Don't you dare. Don't you dare do something stupid. I already decided how this ends. I don't want you making some sort of sacrifice for me. I am ready for this to end, Cas. You gotta know that I am ready." Dean was breathing hard now.

"You don't understand, Dean. I can't kill you. Even if I wanted to, I can't kill you. I never could. It is the nature of the curse." Castiel spoke slowly, carefully, so that his words would sink in.

"No. There has to be a way. You just haven't wanted to think about it, but there has to be a way. I can't risk hurting anyone again, I just can't. I can't be that thing." Dean's eyes pooled up, fear was blooming in him.

"There is a way to fix this. You can transfer the mark to someone worthy, someone willing to take on the turmoil and torment that it will unleash. You can transfer the mark to someone willing to make the sacrifice." Castiel stared into Dean's eyes asking him to accept this.

"No." That one word, and Castiel felt like he was losing.

"Yes. I will take the mark." Castiel held out his arm to Dean.

"It won't work. You are not human. You are an angel. It won't work."

"It won't be the same as it was for you or for Cain. That much is true."

"What do you mean?"

Castiel hesitated. He knew that Dean would not accept it if he knew. So he turned away from Dean and breathed out one small word into each of the vessels containing the remnants of gold, frankincense, and myrrh. The smoke curled up from each and twisted into the air around the water's edge. Castiel turned back to Dean. There had been three words that one could use in the ceremony, one that would draw the grace, the word that he had used before. Then, there was another word, a word that would allow him to release the grace. He stepped back to Dean and held out his hands to him. Dean took a small step back. "It is too late Dean. It is already done." It wasn't, but it didn't matter. He needed Dean to stay close. He didn't need his consent; he just needed proximity. He didn't even need to have Dean willingly give up the mark. "Thank you, Dean, for giving me all of this."

"All of what? What are you doing, Cas." He was desperate, and it showed in his tone, in the terror that filled his eyes.

"For love, for your example, for your…" He stepped toward him and Dean did not retreat. "For everything. I love you, and it is everything."

"Don't do this, Cas. Whatever this is, don't do this." Dean was freaking out. A tear was tracing the contours of his cheek. He held Castiel tightly and then Castiel stepped closer and pressed a kiss to him. It was not just a kiss though, it was the final step. He could have cut the grace out, but he thought that it was likely that Dean would understand that he could resist, leave him. Instead he let the grace flow from him into Dean. For a time, he thought that it might not work. Grace could not just exist in any old human, but the more he thought about it, the more he realized that Dean was not just any old human. He was the Righteous Man. He was the chosen vessel. If he could be that, then he could hold the grace of a lesser angel. Castiel had hoped that he was right, he had banked on it.

He had also banked on the fact that one could not be both a knight of Hell and an angel of the Lord at the same time. He had watched the light and the dark flowing throughout Dean. He had noted how his touch and presence had managed to push away the dark. He had noticed the way that Dean's light, his soul, had grown stronger after Rhyolite. Hannah had understood his path. She had understood what he had needed. She had with one touch to Dean's hand on the cold desert ground broken some of the hold that the darkness had on his soul. She had said that it was an abomination. Castiel understood now, that she meant him and what he was doing to himself, by tearing out his grace and taking in a demon.

Since that night, Dean's soul had glowed out from him. Castiel had stared at it long into the night. His eyes fixed on it, memorizing it, loving it, wishing that he could have just a bit more time to study it. He knew, though, that if he did not follow through, that the darkness would come back. Some fight would draw Dean in, and the inevitable violence would push back the light again. This had to happen now, while Dean was still Dean.

The kiss glowed between them. The light pulsed out and into Dean. They clung to each other. Castiel could feel himself growing weaker. Dean was trying to push him away now, but he couldn't. The grace was keeping them locked like this. Then Castiel felt the invasion of his form from the darkness. His body shuddered as he pressed his arm to Dean's. Dean had not given this to him, but it came to him just the same. It could not stay behind on the angel, and that was what Dean was now. He was for all intents and purposes an angel. Castiel felt the kiss end. He felt the loss of strength in his limbs. His legs buckled beneath him. His head rocked back, sharp and heavy.

Dean caught him. "No, no, no, Cas! Don't leave me. Don't you dare leave." He slumped down to the sand with Castiel in his arms. "No, no, no. Come on Cas, please." He was rocking him back and forth. "You can't leave me like this. I need you, Cas. I need you."

Castiel couldn't reply. He could only hear him. The darkness that he had taken in had taken root. It swirled and twisted about in his body. It was not unlike the time before, with the Leviathans. He wanted to speak. He wanted to open his eyes. He could not. There was no strength left for that now. His body was breathing. He was human. He was demon. He was nothing, or would be soon enough. He could feel the pull of the items that were still near him. He turned his head and whispered one final word, with what little strength that he had left. The word that he hoped would end him, the word that he hoped would pull out the darkness. It was the third and final word that could do anything for them. The light from the vessels, the gifts of the magi, sent out one last tower of blue flame apiece. Then Castiel opened his eyes, black like the night sky above, and watched as the darkness poured from his mouth down to the water's edge and was taken away into the night.

The last thing that he saw was Dean, just Dean holding him. His face was pressed down to his. He was gripping his head in his hands, saying over and over, "Why, Cas, why?" Castiel couldn't answer, but he could smile. He gave Dean a small smile. His eyes were blue again. He was happy. It had worked. He could see the grace in Dean. He could see that the darkness was gone. He could see the way that the grace curled around Dean's soul. The two becoming one. He was happy with the knowledge that he would live on in a small way, although, not in a conscious way. He was happy that he had saved Dean, and that he would still be with Dean a little. This part, though, was a little difficult. Watching his sorrow. He felt loved in this moment, but it did little to ease the pain of watching Dean as he was falling apart.

He had told Sam that Dean would be different. He hoped that in his new form that Dean would no longer feel the constant pull toward violence, toward self-immolation. He believed that the grace would ground him a little, ironically enough. He felt peace descending on him. He closed his eyes. He heard a familiar sound, an aria of voices calling to him. He wondered if he would just cease to exist. He had no soul, no grace. He was just a husk of a man, empty now. He wondered with one last breath if there was anything of him that would carry on, or would it all just be left behind, to be buried, to turn to dust. And because his life was a gift to Dean, because his love was a gift, he did not feel sad as the stars above in the daytime sky faded out of his sight.


	11. Epilogue

There was time enough now, too much, in fact. Dean had lingered at the water's edge, cradling Castiel in his arms. His body had long been cold before he had even considered changing his present position. Day passed on into evening and night, and Dean still sat there holding Castiel. Then another day and another. Each time the light of the sun graced the sky, Dean looked up to it, taking in the stars that Cas had told him about. He could see them now beyond the brightness of the sun. He looked down at Cas' body and pressed his hands to him, healing him of the beginnings of decay that he could sense. He had tried to heal him further. He had tried to force his grace into Cas, but it wasn't working.

He crumbled and shook. He did not know how he would live now. The only reason that he did not find a quick path to ending it all was because of Castiel. He held him and saw the sacrifice that he had made so that he might live. He felt the stirrings of his grace inside of him, and he just couldn't let that all be for nothing. He shuddered with the thought that life would now be long and lonely.

A third day passed and a fourth. Soon he lost track of days. Then one day, a persistent voice raked over his subconscious. _Come home._ It sounded like Sam. He looked down at Castiel and wondered how he had sounded during the many prayers that he had uttered over their years together. Then the voice came through again, _Cas, just bring him home._ Sam was praying to Cas and Dean was hearing it. The grace inside of him hummed with the prayer. He thought about what it meant. He was not sure how long it had been since Castiel had died, but he was ready to see Sam. He stood, and leaned back down to scoop up Castiel into his arms. He leaned down to him and pressed a kiss to his forehead. "Come on angel. Let's get you home." He closed his eyes and concentrated on the destination, and in a single moment they were there.

He stood for a time, just outside of the bunker, wondering how he would deal with seeing Sam. Seeing Sam meant that everything was real and that time had truly passed. He had been telling himself that it had only been moments, and that Castiel would be saved, that he would save him. He felt that he just needed a little more time to figure it out. He made his way into the bunker. Sam was at the long table, head cradled in his hands, looking worn and defeated. When the door closed behind Dean, Sam looked up. "Oh, Dean." And that was all it took for Dean to lose himself again. He carried Castiel down the stairs and collapsed to the floor in a heap. Sam was on him, arms wrapped tight around his shoulders. "I'm so sorry, so sorry." He kept muttering into him.

"I have to save him, Sammy. I have to save him." He just kept rocking back and forth in Sam's arms. Sam held him and tried to breathe comfort into him with words that did not change the events of the past.

"I don't think that you can now. Cas is gone, Dean. You have to let him go." Dean pushed him away like he was dangerous. He pulled Cas to him, creating distance between them and Sam.

"No. There will be no letting go, Sam." Dean seemed to growl out the words. His eyes glowed out in the same bright way that Castiel's had. Sam stiffened and then leaned toward him.

"What did Cas do to you? He said that you would be changed, but he did not say that…" Sam stopped then, because Dean had set Castiel aside and had Sam lifted up and pressed against the wall.

"You knew? You knew what he was planning, Sammy. How, how, how…" He slammed Sam back with each _how_.

Sam was trying to break free, but Dean was too strong for him. "I didn't know. Not really. I just knew that he wanted to save you. We all wanted to save you." Dean loosened his grip a little.

"You should have told me. He shouldn't have saved me. It was time for me to die. He didn't need to save me." Dean let Sam go, seeming to realize that he had left Castiel alone on the floor. He went back to him. "I don't think that you understand what this is doing to me, the living." Dean said these words down to Castiel, but Sam took them in and responded.

"I understand."

Dean looked back at him. "You couldn't. He loved me, and then he took that away from me when he died for me. And I just need to fix that. I just need to fix this."

"I understand." Sam said it again, and somehow Dean did not fight the statement. "It never gets easy losing someone that you love. You don't really lose them though if you keep loving them."

"Don't give me that sentimental bullshit Sammy. I have lost him. I can love him for the rest of fucking eternity, and he will still not exist to know it. So, fuck you, and your fucking understanding." Dean scooped up Castiel again and carried him off to his old room. He had thought about leaving. He had thought about flying into the sun. All of these thoughts ran through his mind. He felt a stirring in his grace, Castiel's grace, and he decided that he would speak with Sam again, just not right then.

"So you are going to make me be all noble huh?" He was talking to himself, sort of. He felt like he was talking to Castiel inside him.

He felt the stirring again. He pressed his hands to Castiel again, sending out little waves of healing, hoping that this time it would accomplish more than just the removal of the decay. It didn't. "Well, it was worth a try." He left Castiel on his bed and walked back out to Sam.

"I'm sorry." Sam just looked at him.

He looked away and said, "No, I'm sorry. I should have tried to help. I never wanted this. He was my family too." Sam was crying. Dean stepped over to him and pulled him into a hug. They stayed like that for a time, and it was what he had needed before, to just know that someone else loved Castiel and understood what it meant to lose him. Sam understood.

Days passed and nights passed. Winter passed and then it was spring. He stepped out of the bunker into the world and looked at the rain drenched landscape around him. He looked up into the sun soaked sky and mapped out a path through the stars. He felt the stirring inside of him again, "So you want to go for a little flight?" He had grown accustomed to talking to himself, to the grace that was Cas, his Cas. The feeling came to him again and with a thought he was gone. His body passed constellations and darkness. He felt the heat and cold, the emptiness and the presence of planets too large for humans to fully comprehend.

His face broke into a smile, broad and fierce as he darted through the paths that were familiar and at the same time new. He felt the stirring inside of him, pulling him this way and that way. He felt the universe like a caress upon him. He was beyond all things familiar when he felt the urge to stop. So, he did. He just stopped and took in the space around him. He closed his eyes then and tuned his mind to something beyond it all. It was then in the vast emptiness that he heard the song. An aria of voices. They were there in his mind, melodious and kind. There were other sounds too, like chimes on the porch of a coastal home clinking in time with the wind that was really just the song.

He opened his eyes to see if it was there or just in his mind. There was nothing. Just him, and the vastness of space. He opened his mouth to sing. He wanted to join their song. He had never been much for singing. Well, he had enjoyed it, but he did lack in technical skills. However, when he opened his mouth, the song poured out. It was the same song he had heard. It was his song now too. He let it flow loudly from him out into the dark. He felt it like it was a tangible thing.

A light in the darkness appeared in front of him. "Hello, Castiel. Hello, Dean." It was a familiar voice.

He knew who she was on instinct, or perhaps it was just enough that Castiel had known her. "Hello, Hannah. Castiel is not here anymore."

"Of course he is." She spun out around him in a blue glow of light.

"He died saving me. He gave me his grace." Dean did not know why he felt the need to explain this to her. Surely she must understand.

"I know what he did. He became a demon for you and he gave up control of his grace for you. It was a great sacrifice that he made for you." Dean felt a certain measure of judgement coming from her, and he felt that he deserved every bit of it. He also felt the stirrings of his grace as she spoke.

"I am sorry. I wish that he had not saved me. I wish that I could have stopped him." Dean felt the stirring even more.

"He loves you a great deal, Dean Winchester. Such a sacrifice is not something to be taken lightly. To say that you would rather toss aside his choice is to say that you would rather not know that love. Surely, you would not reject that gift."

"I would. I would reject it so that I would be able to die knowing that he was okay. To live like this, is not living. I don't think that he ever knew what living meant to me."

Hannah's form circled around him, slow and steady. "What did it mean to you?"

"It meant suffering and pain. It meant watching Sammy dying. It meant watching Bobby dying. It meant watching everyone that I have ever loved crushed and hurt and bleeding. I was ready to never see that again. I was ready to leave. I couldn't live in a world that would time and time again rip out my soul just to jam it back in again so that I could keep on doing it all again and again. It is too much. Losing Cas, has destroyed me, and I am not living. He made a great sacrifice, but I died that day too, so it was for nothing." Dean felt the stirring slow inside of him. It was still like sadness in winter.

"He is with you, you know?"

"Yeah, yeah, yeah. Don't give me the Hallmark moment here. Angels shouldn't be cliched. Sammy already did the whole _as long as you love him he never leaves you_ routine."

"No, Dean. He is with you. Don't you feel him?" Dean felt the stirring inside him throb out with some strength. And in that moment, Dean had a realization. Castiel was not gone.

"What do I need to do?" Dean felt desperation, but it was a new type of desperation. It was coupled with hope.

"Nothing. He would not want you to do anything."

"No." Dean would not accept that pronouncement. "No, Hannah. What can I do to bring him back?"

"He believes that he is helping you even now, Dean. He does not want to be saved. He is content, much as you would be content. Do you want to take that from him?"

He let out a long low yell into the darkness. Hannah's light shot back from him. He was conflicted. He needed Castiel. He felt like he was lost. He felt like he was never going to be right again. He needed this with a fierce desperation, born of love and the emptiness of loss. It was not enough that he was 'with him' as Hannah had claimed. It was not the same. He needed more, craved more. He needed. He let the feeling build in him until he felt the answering stir, comforting and small. "You don't understand Cas. It isn't enough." The stirring again, pressed out to him. "I have to fix this."

Hannah moved back toward him. She said, "I will help you. Sometimes I think that he just doesn't see past the too bright moment of his own sacrifices. Perhaps you and I will have to do the seeing for him."

"Tell me what to do." He pushed aside his focus on the stirring. Hannah lead him back to Castiel, beyond sacrifice, back to hope.

* * *

><p>He had carried Castiel from the room, much like he had all of those months ago. He pressed healing into him, pushing back the decay. He ran his fingers along his cheek, loving him more with each moment. "I love you. You will come back to me." The stirring seemed to say, <em>I never left.<em> He snapped away with Castiel in his arms, the sound of sheets stiff, blown on the wind. They returned to the lake. The Impala was surprisingly still there. the wind blown mess of their campsite now just a mess of remnants tossed about like so much garbage.

He carried Cas to the water's edge and saw Hannah, lingering near the spot where Castiel had made his sacrifice. He laid Castiel on the sand. He looked to Hannah for guidance. "Are you sure, Dean?"

"I am. Are you?"

"I am." She had said that the location might not matter. They went there just the same. Dean did not want to take any chances. There was something about this spot that might hold Castiel, keep him grounded, because it would be familiar to his grace. "Are you ready?"

"I am. I'm a right mess in there, Hannah. Good luck."

"I am sure that it will feel like home, eventually." He tipped his head back then, opened his mouth and her light poured into him. At first he felt a struggle within him. The feeling of a battle, then he fell to the ground. He dragged himself over to Castiel's body and pressed his head to his chest.

"Please, Cas. Don't fight this." He felt the struggle lessen and then there was light pouring from him, a steady stream of it flowing out to Castiel's body. As the light poured into him, Dean felt his own form settling, stirring less. He lifted his head and looked down into the face of his angel and saw his eyes fly open, blue and most definitely alive.

Then like a benediction, that one word. "Dean." He pulled him up into his arms more so than before. He held him and believed that he would never let him go. He felt the gentle stirring within him. Hannah was there. She had helped to press Castiel out. Now she was there, in Dean, and she would stay there for now. Dean had agreed to her request. It seemed like a small sacrifice to make, having to share his form with her. She said that it was actually quite generous of him, and that this sacrifice would be enough to make the transfer stick.

* * *

><p>Long ago the magi made a great sacrifice. Each year gifts are exchanged and promises made. Each gift that is given, each promise that is made carries with it some intent. And on that day, something was exchanged that was given with the purest of intentions. It was a gift of love, a worthy gift. It was the sacrifice of angels for their humans. It was giving up a part of themselves for the worthy cause. It had been an offer of salvation, an offer of redemption, and an offer of love.<p>

There would be much to discuss between Castiel and Dean. There would be much to understand about how their lives would be, but they had an eternity to figure it out. And Dean thought for the first time with happiness that life might just be long. This was good; it was very good indeed. He stood and reached down to Castiel, pulling him up to him. They held each other under the vast expanse of sky, bright with morning sunlight, and together, they planned the paths that they would take through the stars, the paths of their lives from this day forth. It was the path that love had brought them to, the path that, for them, would lead them onward.

The End

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**AN: Well, that about does it. Hope you all enjoyed this journey. I am sorry that I gave you all an unexpected MCD last chapter. I figured it would be okay, though, since I had every intention of raising him from perdition, um, I mean whatever that was. Thanks Mummabro, Igniting, A Zap, Person, smalls907, YoungHopeful, Valerie-Lynn, and watcherseven for the reviews and support. Thank you, and 'till the next fic.**


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